


An Unexpected Romance

by delorita, JC Oakenshield (SilverFountains)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Badass Thorin, Dating, Drug Use, Durincest, Fight Club - Freeform, Gang Violence, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Plot Twists, Sexting, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/pseuds/delorita, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/JC%20Oakenshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin runs an underground fight club for his boss and friend, the dangerous mobster Thorin Oakenshield. But he has a secret past-time to offset the violence of his job that he would never live down if Thorin found out. Although Dwalin himself will find out that not all is as it seems. </p><p>There will be lots of Durincest innuendos in this!</p><p>This is a mafia fic with lots of graphic violence. But it's also a bit tongue-in-cheek. Enjoy!</p><p>I have taken quite a hiatus from this fic, but I am back with a cowriter!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He looks around the place, at the sight of bruised and bloodied faces and the sounds of thuds and grunts. This is the dark and underground side of his day job. For a few days a week the big tattoed and pierced man taught martial arts to working and paying customers in what seemed a perhaps little rough around the edges but a decent enough martial arts club. But it was largely a façade, a bit of past time. This was really what it was all about. This is where the real money was made. Where he taught the underground elite of bare knuckle fighters. Fighters for money. It was a dark world that he worked and lived in. A world of corruption and bloodsports, of dirty money and watching your back 24/7.

But these are his men, his warriors. That is how he sees them; his elite squad of soldiers. Warriors he trains to fight for their supreme leader - Thorin Oakenshield, brother of Dis, the matriarch of the Durin Familia. The man was an old school bad boy, a proper mafioso, as ruthless as he was handsome. Someone who paid as much for his expensive suit as the handgun he carried underneath his Armani jacket.  He carries his crimes with a chilling flair. He pretty much owns this part of the city, had a finger in most pots and knows just how to stir each one of them to his own advantage. He makes most of his money in drug and other criminal deals. And although these underground fights attract big money too, for Thorin it is small change and that is not why he had set it up. It was a pure entertainment for him, watching men fight each other to pulp for his pleasure. And he acts like a roman emperor whenever he selects his finest gladiators for slaughter.

Dwalin had known Thorin since childhood. They had grown up together in the same part of town, had gone to the same school. Thorin had been trouble for as long as he can remember, which was no wonder considering his family was one of the most infamous criminal syndicates in the country. He pretty much had warning lights flickering above his head and everyone in school had known to stay well clear of the handsome, dark haired boy. Thorin had grown up in a world of deceit and an-eye-for-an-eye mentality and behind the angelic blue eyes lived a devious creature that knew how to play those around him and how to deal with those who wouldn’t play along nicely.

Dwalin had never cared much for those warnings. He himself came from a broken home of violence and drug abuse and he too knew how to stand up for himself. And so he had befriended the young hoodlum in school. They had fought like cockerels in their younger days, tearing each other to shreds over the smallest of disputes or just because they felt like testing each other’s limits. But they had soon learnt that they were equally matched in strength and ferocity. And it had created a deep mutual respect and trust between them. They are as close as blood brothers and Dwalin knows Thorin has his back as he has his. He trusts Thorin with his life and he knows he had the same trust in return. Which is just as well, because playing with Thorin is like playing Russian roulette.

He glances at the fighters sparring in the dingy, bare room today. There is Nori, The Fox. He is a schemer, a charlatan and a hustler during the day. He isn’t his strongest fighter by far, but he is sneaky and knows how to play on his opponent’s weaknesses.

His partner for today is Bombur, or he Bomb. He is a house of a man, as wide as he is tall. His pure size is enough to put fear into his opposite number.

On the other side of the room there is Gloin, with his fiery red hair looking every bit as crazed as he was. He is known as The Flame as he can be every bit as destructive as a spreading fire when he is unleashed.

His opponent is a foreign chap that Dwalin had recently found. He has no idea what his real name is and he knows him as ‘Bark’, which apparently stands for Axe in his native language.  He doesn’t speak a word of English, so communication is somewhat difficult. But he is one hell of a fighter. Probably the most ferocious of them all. It was said he had been shot in the head in his home country. Although he had miraculously survived the attack, it had left him with permanent damaged to his brain which seemed to have resulted in a total lack of empathy and fear. The perfect makings of a killing machine.

And then of course there are the two brothers. They are Thorin’s nephews and just as volatile as he is. Totally unpredictable and like the rest of the Durin Familia not ones you would ever want to get on the wrong side of if you valued to see the next dawn, not least before Thorin protects the boys like a rabid bear. They are weapon fighters mostly, martial artists. The blond, Fili, is the quiet one and a master of the Tonfa, wooden dual-wield weapons. Whereas his brother, Kili, with his dark wild hair and slightly crazed look in his dark eyes, prefers to wield a single bo staff. They needed no individual stage names. They are simply known as The Twins, as they fight as a pair. Dwalin is convinced that the two have some sick incestuous thing going on between them as they always seem to be down each other’s trousers. But even if he had dared say anything, he wouldn’t. It is none of his business what the two got up to in their own time. As long as they concentrated on what he needed them to do in the ring he is satisfied and in that respect the brothers are as fierce and fearless as their uncle.

He is proud of them all. These and the others that are not here today. And he watches their sparring with the pride of a father.

“Dwalin.” The deep voice rang loud through the underground chamber. “My friend.” Dwalin doesn’t turn around and awaits the heavy thud on his back which comes as expected.

“Thorin,” he smiles back and accepts the rough embrace his employer offers him. “What brings you down here?”

“I wanted to see for myself this new gem you got me. See if he’s ready to fight this Friday.”

“Ah, Bark,” Dwalin grunts. “He’s fighting Gloin over there,” he nods towards the far corner.

Thorin’s eyes dart over and he watches the sparring with interest for some while. Dwalin glances over and although no smile is seen underneath the dark moustache, he knows his friend is impressed.

“He seems okay,” Thorin says in the end and Dwalin knows it is the best compliment he is going to get out of him. “Do you think he’s ready?”

“Friday night? Against who?”

“The Defiler.”

Dwalin almost chokes as his boss throws that name so casually at his feet. “Fuck Thorin, that’s a bit heavy going for his first round!” The Defiler was a brutal fighter. A gladiator of his age, as displayed in the many battle wounds he had incurred over the years. Even the loss of his forearm in an armed combat fight had not stopped him. Instead he had had some sort of prosthetic made that he could use as a weapon. He was utterly ruthless and Dwalin knew he even entertained fights to the death, which was a particular dark side of the scene that even Thorin shied away from.

“Can he fight with weapons?” Thorin looks at him coolly, unfazed by that response.

“I … I haven’t really tried. I hadn’t expected …”

“Give him a weapon,” Thorin orders him and promptly turns his back, leaving no further room for discussion.

“Uncle!!” Kili and Fili had spotted Thorin and have abandoned their fight to run over.

“My boys,” Thorin gives them a warm smile as they fly into their uncle’s arms, pressing thick kisses on his cheeks. Dwalin knows he adored the two of them, possibly more so than he should. But then,  Thorin doesn’t have any children of his own. These two unhinged youths have been like his sons to him and are his heirs. He had looked after them since his brother-in-law was gunned down by another clan in an ongoing territorial feud between the two ancient families and one that had resulted in many a loss life on either side. Now that they are of age he is grooming them to step into his footsteps and to one day take over his empire.

“Uncle Thorin,” Kili chatters, “did you see? Did you see us fight?”

“I did, Kili,” Thorin puts his arms around both his nephews and together they walk towards the staircase to lead them out of the cellar. “You did well. But you need to watch your defence. You still focus too much on your attack, giving Fili too much of an opportunity …” His deep voice trails off as they disappear upstairs.

Dwalin sighs as he is left with Thorin’s instruction. He looks over at Bark. He has three days left to get his new fighter up to speed to face The Defiler. And once more he curses Thorin for putting him into an impossible position. The man is unforgiving, always pushing him and his warriors to the limit. And Dwalin knows that if Thorin had wagered against the Defiler there will be big money at stake and it will be Dwalin’s nuts on the line if he doesn’t deliver.

There is nothing for it. Thorin is many things, but foremost he is stubborn. And if he has decided on throwing his new gem for the lions then that is what will happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin has tried to prepare Bark for his first fight. As he gets home, exhausted and fuming with Thorin, he needs a little something to help him relax before bed.

By the time he gets home at gone one in the morning Dwalin is exhausted. Trying to show the newcomer the various weapons that his men chose to fight with wasn’t so much the issue. And the foreigner had immediately been excited when he had shown him the dual Kamas. They were weapons that Fili had been eager to move on to, but Thorin had not allowed his nephews to fight with blades just yet. They were still at the entry level of the underground sport, although already they had proven themselves at the top of their league table and both seemed to have an unhealthy blood thirst that clearly ran in the family. Not that Dwalin was in a position to judge any of them.

But Bark had proven himself to be a natural at handling the scythe like weapons and it had given Dwalin some hope that the man wouldn’t be completely torn to pieces in the first round. He had held a good enough defence and demonstrated an impressive offence as Dwalin had sparred with him, trying out various weapons against him which The Defiler had been known to use in previous fights.

However, trying to explain to Bark why he was asking him to now move from his bare fists to something more vicious had proven nigh impossible. He had tried to draw his potential opponent, had even tried to do impressions, which had just earned him mocked laughter from the other three fighters in the room. However, writing down the prize money that Bark could earn if he accepted Thorin’s invitation – which Dwalin knew sounded more like a choice than it really was – had got the message across and the black haired man had eagerly nodded his head. At least it was something, Dwalin had thought. He would have hated to have to drag the man into the arena and if his new fighter had chosen not to accept he definitely wouldn’t he part of his squad and possible not part of this world for much longer.

Despite his exhaustion, he is still too hyped up to go straight to bed so he puts the kettle on as he whistles a random little tune that had got stuck in his head but he couldn’t even place. Once the water boiled and he had poured himself a soothing cup of tea, he picks up is Kindle and sits himself down in the large comfortable arm chair of his living room. His place isn’t all that special. He has plenty of money now – Thorin isn’t stingy with his wages – but he doesn’t care much for decorating. He has all he needs and that is fine with him. He doesn't spend that much time awake in the place anyway. He doesn’t need to glam it up for anyone since he lives alone.

As he turns on the electronic device in his hand and puts on his reading glasses he starts to feel a little calmer. He's still really fucking mad with Thorin. Bark had such potential and to send him cold into a fight like that was … well, stupid to be frank. But he had guessed well enough at Thorin’s reasoning. Of course putting an unknown fighter up against The Defiler would draw in the crowds, some eager to see a potential new star and others hoping for a proper blood bath. Also the betting stakes, should Bark manage to pull this off, would be very high indeed. But furthermore the famed fighter was infamous for doing unrepairable damage to his opponents. He guessed that Thorin would rather offer up a newby with a remote chance that he was actually any good, rather than one of his prized fighters. If Bark came out of the other end unscathed he would have earned himself a place right at the top with Thorin’s favourites. If he didn’t, well there would be no loss as far was Thorin was concerned.

Dwalin takes a sip from his tea and presses the link of the title that he had downloaded just the other night. It is a book by his favourite author, Jezebel Dainty. Well, at least that is her pseudonym. But it sounds so deliciously exotic. He already has this wonderful picture of the woman in his head. A sturdy lass, with broad hips and big boobs that he would nuzzle his head between. He had fantasised many a night about gasping for air whilst being suffocated by that ample bosom. How she would straddle him and look at him from under those deep long lashes, pouting those full wet lips at him.  He was sure her hair was black as the night, long and thick… A bit like… Nggh, he quickly clicks to the next page and focuses every bit of his attention on the sentence of the top of the page. No way was he going to go there!

He continues reading where he’d left off the previous night, when the heroin was being shown the upstairs room by the sexy estate agent.

_Natasha swallowed back the anxious lump in her throat as her stomach fluttered with excitement._

_The room was not very large and the big double bed took up most of the space. Her legs brushed against it and she realised that she had nowhere left to go._

_George stepped towards her._

_“Gosh, it is cold in here – isn’t it?” she shivered pointedly, “shall we get back downstairs then?” she asked as her nerves got the better of her._

_“In a minute,” George whispered softly, “There’s just something else  I want to show you first…”_

_And before she had a chance to say anything else he reached out and pulled her against him, and his lips claimed hers in their first real kiss._

Dwalin sighs deeply as he feels a little flutter deep in his stomach. Jezebel wrote such beautiful erotica, all hot and sexy. It turns him on like nothing else. He pictures Natasha being Jezebel herself, her beautiful sexy body swaying slightly under the hot kiss. And of course he would be George, kissing those bright red lips of hers, whilst his hands would slide over her voluptuous behind…

He knows Jezebel’s books are kind of intended for women. And Dwalin knows if Thorin finds out about his dirty little secret he would never live it down. But after all the bloody spit, the bruises and the sweaty masculine bodies he has to look at all night coming home to some tender love making in the beautiful writing style of his sweet Jezebel… This is his little happy place.


	3. Chapter 3

Dwalin has been Thorin’s personal trainer for many years now, ensuring that his boss keeps up his strength and good looks. By the time he gets to the family’s private gym Thorin is already most of the way through his warm up and Dwalin walks over to check the display on the treadmill. 4.6 kilometres. It is just a warm up and he knows Thorin would stop at five and then cool down.

“Morning,” Thorin says through his steady breathing, without once looking at him.

Dwalin nods and pours himself a glass of water as he watches his friend finish his warm up. Sweat is already running down his back as he has set a fast pace for his last leg. His t-shirt is clinging to him and he wipes his towel over his heated face. His thick ponytail looks drenched already, either with sweat or water or both. And Dwalin can’t help but think once more that he is a good looking man as his muscles flex clearly through his t-shirt. Well, no-one would disagree with him on that. He is the typical tall, dark and handsome kind of guy. And it is Dwalin’s job after all to keep him in the fine shape he is in.

Thorin slows the machine down to a walking pace now to cool down and gulps some water down himself as he wipes the sweat from his neck and shoulders.

“How did you get on?” he calls over.

Dwalin knows instantly he means with Bark. “Okay. He will fight.”

“Excellent.”

He watches the drug baron finish his cool down as in his head he runs through the routine he has in mind for his boss.

Thorin stepps off the treadmill and smiles as he walks over and clasps Dwalin’s forearm in greeting. His smile never extends to his eyes however. “Right, what have you got planned for me this morning? I am feeling a little wound up, so I hope you will put me through my paces.”

Dwaling huffs. He's feeling wound up? He wasn’t the one who had spent until gone midnight trying to train someone who doesn’t fucking speak English for a fight that he doesn’t approve of. But he bites his tongue. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.” And that's the end of that conversation.

“Fair enough,” Dwalin shruggs his shoulders, knowing better than to probe. If Thorin doesn’t want to talk than he probably doesn’t want to know anyway. He tries his best to stay away from Thorin’s dirty business. Running his illegal fight club was one thing. But he knows there is a whole lot more going on in Thorin’s world that he does not want to be a part of.

Dwalin starts his boss off doing some weights and push himself to his limits on the machines, continuing to work him into a sweat. It is Dwalin’s little bit of revenge, watching Thorin groan as he pushes him harder and harder. He knoww full well that Thorin is still in charge. If he wants he could click his fingers and Dwalin would be no more than a puff of smoke. But making his powerful boss work hard enough for him so that he would ache in the morning makes Dwalin feel a little powerful and he relishes it.

Before he gets Thorin onto the sand bag to flex his fists he has him on his back on the bench to work his abs. Dwalin straddles the bench in order to place his palms flat against Thorin’s shoulders to offer additional resistance against his crunches. He's well aware that the position looks somewhat compromising and he crings when he can hear the chatter of Thorin’s nephews as they stroll into the family’s gym. Why do the two of them have to follow Thorin around like a shadow all the time?

“Dwalin! Uncle! Oh, we are not interrupting anything are we?” Fili winks as he walks over to one of the machines, making Kili chuckle behind his back.

Thorin ignores him as he continues his crunches but Dwalin can feel the blush creep up his neck as his hands slacken a little. “Dwalin!” Thorin growls him back into concentration.

Kili walks over to give his uncle a quick kiss against his temple before he follows his brother, helping him a little too eagerly to fold his legs into the resistance braces.

“Fili, you need to warm up first,” Dwalin shouts over as he watches the two of them from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t worry,” Kili grins. “We had a good warm up before we got here.” And he winks at the big man before turning his back.

Dwalin coughs as he hears the brothers snigger and feels the pink spread further into his cheeks.

“Leave them,” he hears Thorin say from under him and he finds his friend smirking at him, knowing full well what Dwalin thinks right then.

Dwalin shuffles back to allow his friend to get up off the bench, wishing his blush to go away.

“They went for a run outside before they came in here.” Thorin says casually. It was the truth.

“Of course. I wasn’t…” He bites his lip and turns away from his little tormentors.

Thorin grins at him, but says no more. He's well aware that Kili is teasing him on purpose. And also that Dwalin isn’t completely of the mark with his indecent thoughts.

His embarrassment makes Dwalin work Thorin even harder as he gets him onto the heavy canvas punch bag. Thorin never wears gloves as he seems to have a perverted pleasure in working his knuckles to bleeding, probably imagining he's punching seven shades of crap out of someone who had upset him. And his agitation today is evident as each punch lands with increased force. Dwalin wonders what bothers his friend. He's explosive at the best of times, but today he really seems more on edge than usual.

He leaves Thorin to get on with it for a moment as he goes to check up on the boys. To Dwalin’s surprise they're actually working out properly now rather than just messing around. They aren’t bad lads really. They just know how to push Dwalin’s buttons and they clearly enjoy it. But they're also excellent fighters and when they put their mind to it Dwalin thinks they could be the next greatest thing.

He helps Fili work on his upper arm strength for a while as Kili does some ground exercises to increase the flexibility in his shoulders.

“Dwalin.” The order from his boss makes him look up and he gives Fili one last instruction before he walks over.

“Are you finished?” Dwalin asks as Thorin stills the bag and wipes himself down once more.

“Yes. Now, about Friday. There will be a crowd warm up round. I want you to prepare my boys for that.”

Kili bounces up at the notion. “Oh, yay!”

But Thorin slaps him back down without even looking over his shoulder. “Kili, shut up and get back to your workout.” And Dwalin watches with amusement as the youngest of the boys bows his head in reprimand. At least Thorin still has control over them if no-one else seems to.

Thorin puts a muscly arm around Dwalin, the smell of his sweat hitting Dwalin in the face as he does so. “Come, we’ll let the twins finish their workout whilst we talk.” And he guides Dwalin towards the exit, before glancing back over his shoulder. “You had best be working hard. If I find you fucking about there will be hell to pay.” Dwalin doesn’t really want to think about how literally Thorin exactly implied that, but the boys meekly chorus, “Of course, uncle Thorin!”

***

Whilst Thorin takes a shower, Dis pours Dwalin some tea. She's a beautiful woman with the same dark, exotic features as her brother. The thick black hair is braided down to the small of her back. And her large dark eyes are piercing. Dwalin has a real soft spot for the powerful matriarch of the Durin family. He has to admit that she is the sort of woman that his private fantasies about his Jezebel are based on. Not that he would ever say that out loud. Thorin would have his cock deep-fried if he found out that Dwalin had had but the tiniest of indecent thoughts about his beloved sister. And anyway, the thought of getting involved with the mother of the two reckless boys is enough to make him feel queasy. But nonetheless he enjoys looking at her as she smiles at him.

“Has my brother been giving you grief?” she asks as she sat herself down.

“No ma’am,” Dwalin grumbles as he throws another clump of sugar in his tea.

“I cannot believe that,” Dis laughs. “He is a pain in the arse, he is.” Thorin enters the room as if on cue, looking perfectly groomed and every bit the gangster he is in his expensive chalk striped suit. Dwalin wonders if anyone should tell him that they had entered the twenty-first century, but actually his boss manages to carry it off.

“Are you gossiping about me again, sweet sister?” He bends himself down to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I would never, brother dear.”

Dwalin knows there is a lot of love between the siblings. He had known Thorin’s sister and his brother Frerin for as long as he had known Thorin. And when Frerin had been killed by a car bomb planted by the rivalling Dain Clan several years back now it had torn at the very heart of the family and Thorin and Dis had grown even closer. Thorin is very protective of his sister and Dis looks after her brother with equal care. This is the thing with the Durins. They 're very close knit and it is hard for an outsider to come into their midst. Dwalin is one of the few that had managed to come this close to any of them.

“So, Friday night,” Thorin continues their conversation where they had left off as he nods in thanks to his sister for the tea that she pushed his way. “I want Kili and Fili in the warm up round.”

Dwalin glances over to Dis, gauging her reaction, but she gives none, seemingly content with the notion of her boys fighting for prize money. And not for the first time he thinks that despite knowing Thorin and his family for so many years there are so many things he doesn't not know or understands about them.

“They will be fighting with their usual weapons. Their opponents are a couple of unknown fighters that Dain has put up.”

Dwalin freezes at the name. Iron Dain… The very person who Thorin holds responsible for his brother’s death. So this is what this is all about. Why his friend had the jitters and had been trying to punch a hole through his punch bag earlier. He raises an eyebrow.

“I think he is bluffing,” Thorin ignores the expression. “He will probably give us the first round just to give us a taste for the winnings as he fully expects his beast to rule the main event.” Right, so The Defiler is fighting for Dain now is he. Things are becoming clearer now. “But it will give the boys a bit of practice. It has been a while since they have been in the ring.”

Dwalin nods. They're well prepared and as long as they keep their focus they should be good enough to face almost anyone without a problem.

“So this new guy, you think he can handle him?”

“The Defiler? I am going to be frank, Thorin, I think you are a fool to put him up. He’s good and all but he’s never fought for you in a betting fight yet.”

“Are you questioning me?”

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a moment and Dwalin feels his heart beat just a little faster as his gaze darts towards Thorin’s gun which is hanging in its holster just above his hip. He wonders if the man even sleeps with it as the weapon seems to be part of his very being.

But then Thorin laughs and hits him hard across the back. “That’s what I love about you! Never afraid to speak your mind.” It doesn't make the slightest bit of difference though as Thorin continues as if that part of the conversation never happened. “So you say he is going to fight with the Kamas? Interesting. Fili will enjoy watching that. So what do you think the odds are?”

“Honestly Thorin, I don’t know. You know I will prepare him best I can. He is very strong and I have been impressed so far. But whether he matches up… well just have to see.”


	4. Chapter 4

After his appointment with his boss Dwalin had used the private gym for himself for just over an hour. It was one of the perks of the job especially as Thorin liked to throw money at the latest equipment. It was good to blow off some steam. Especially now that he knows how much pressure is resting on Friday’s fight. The two hot headed enemies do not often face off in this way. And the few occasions they had in the past it had been an interlude between rising tensions which usually ended up in a bloodbath one way or another. He wonders what had preceded this decision to push at each other’s buttons through the means of their human dogfights. Clearly Thorin is on edge. Had the other strayed into his territory? Had Thorin stolen an important client from his adversary? It feels like a thunderstorm hangs in the air and Friday night would be the first flash of lighting.

Thing is there are blood ties between the two warring families. Dwalin had never really gotten to the bottom of it, but he knows that Dain once had been part of the Durin clan. However, at some point the family had split into two factions and Dain had denounced the Durin name. And things escalate quickly when interfamily tension runs high, never more so when the two alpha males can drink each other’s blood. Whatever had caused the initial break, matters turned to full blown war when Frerin, Thorin’s younger brother had been blown to pieces the moment he had turned the key in the ignition outside one of their gambling joints. What made matters even worse was that the bomb had been intended for Thorin himself, who had made the grave error to ask his little brother to run an errand for him. Dwalin had never seen such devastation on his friend’s face before or since. The brothers had been very close. Much like Dis’ boys are these days. And Thorin, as he had mourned his brother’s death, had sworn revenge. Dain had always denied his involvement in the killing, but there is no doubt in Thorin’s mind that he had been behind the attack. And retaliation had come fast with the cold blooded execution of six senior members of the Dain clan. It had proven to everyone that Thorin still ruled this town and the matter had been frozen thereafter for fear on either side that things would escalate into total genocide. But the tension between the two rivals remain tangible and this upcoming fight could well signal a new era of violence.

With all these thoughts of murder and revenge killings going through his head, Dwalin actually finds some satisfaction in the mundane tasks of life, such as doing his food shopping in the afternoon. Sometimes just mingling with normal people going about their daily business -people who do not carry guns underneath their jackets or knives wrapped against their ankles - is nice in its simple innocence.

Even nicer is being greeted by his two cats as he returns to his apartment, although they are clearly happier to see their food come through the door than he himself. As his girls tuck into their dinner he checks through his post, but other than a sales advert form some sofa dealer and a discount voucher for a family sized pizza there is nothing of interest and he deposits the flyers straight into the recycling bin.

He turns on the oven for his ready meal curry before he turns on his laptop. He flicks absentmindedly through the usual, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr … He laughs at a few of the pictures as he scrolls down his dashboard. But there is nothing that really catches his attention.

Until he notices the little envelope flashing in the corner of his screen. He never receives many emails other than spam, so he almost ignored it. But something made him click the icon nonetheless, ready to bin whatever Nigerian lottery he had won this time.

His breath catches in his throat. He’d almost forgotten he had even sent the email it was so long ago. He had tried to track her down for months, but it had proven impossible to get hold of the woman. She was not on any of the social networks. Clearly she was a very private person, which suited Dwalin just fine. The only contact details he could find were those of her agent, Istari Publishing Plc. And he had not expected to receive a response when he had sent the email, expecting her agent to just bin it or at most send some standard response back.

He had kept it clean of course. He had just said how much he loved her work. How it helped him relax after a stressful day. That he was her biggest fan, naturally. And how he thought that she had the most beautiful writing style and could only begin to imagine what a beautiful woman she must be.

When the email finally opens up his heart beats a little faster in his chest. A quick scan shows him that it was actually from her!

 

_Dear Mr Dwalin_

_Thank you so much for your email. It was wonderful to hear from you and to read your kind comments. It makes me very happy to think that my words have such an impact on someone as kind as you._

_I hope that you will enjoy my latest novel, which will be published at the end of the month. To market its release I will be doing a book singing at the Erotica Show. I hope that you will be there. It would be my pleasure to sign my book for you._

_Love and kisses,_

_Jezebel Dainty_

Dwalin’s heart flutters. She's going to do a signing! He's actually going to meet his sexy goddess of the written word. The Erotica Show… the biggest adult lifestyle show in the country. He needs to buy tickets! They had better not be sold out! He's fumbling for his wallet, trying to find his credit card as he types into the search engine and clicks on the website link.

He feels more relieved than he would admit to that tickets are still available. The show is the following weekend already. Saturday is a training day, however, for his fighters and he would have to get Thorin’s permission to take the day off. He would have to come up with some excuse; no way is he going to tell Thorin he's going to the Erotica Show. His friend would piss himself laughing. But there is no chance in hell that Dwalin would miss this opportunity. And Thorin owed him a favour after the business with his new fighter.

Once his credit card details have been accepted and the confirmation of payment had flashed up on his screen, Dwalin sinks back into his chair with a content smile on his face and a flutter of excitement in his belly.  _Jezebel…_ Maybe she would sign something like  _To Dwalin, with all my love…_ And he would cherish it forever like the most precious gift.

Maybe, just maybe he would even have the guts to ask her out. Just for a coffee or something of course. And he closes his eyes at the day dreams of taking his beautiful princess out for dinner somewhere nice. Buy her a single rose from one of those annoying people that hover around your dinner table.

And only when his stomach starts to growl in protest does he remember that he has not even put his dinner in the oven yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sul ghelekh barkûr ra turg = I am good (literally: all is well with axe and beard)

Ori sighs as he hears his stepbrother shout for him to hurry up and come downstairs. He's taking his time closing his laptop, carefully securing the files with a password.

“Ori! Where the bloody hell are you?”

“I’m coming!” he calls back as he stuffs his computer in his desk drawer and locks it, before sticking the key in the little cup behind his television. There is no way he will risk Dain getting his hands on his laptop and the documents contained within.

When he appears at the top of the stairs Dain scowls up at him. “Ori, we’re gonna be late! If you don’t get a fucking move on we’ll leave without you!”

He wants to reply that he would not mind that. That he would be quite happy to stay at home. But he knows that that would not be an option. He's not actually being offered a choice here. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly as he quickly makes his way down the stairs and pulls his shoes and coat on.

“You look like you’re going on a date with a girl,” Dain smirks, but he gets a slap around the back of the head from his father.

“Leave the boy alone.”

Ori is no boy. In fact he's only a couple of years younger than Dain. He's a grown man, but he's not very tall and his boyish, not particularly fashionable haircut and shy demeanour make him appear younger than he is, especially next to his brutishly loud stepbrother.

He should really move out, get a place of his own. But it's expensive to live in the city and his income is not regular enough to sign up to any long-term commitment. So for the time being he puts up with being treated like a child by Dain. And it allows him to keep an eye on his stepfather, whose health is beginning to fail him.

Nain is an old man now and although officially he's still the man in charge, he has handed down the operational reigns of his empire to his son a long while ago after they he broke away from the Durin family. That break had been his doing. His cousin Thrain has been his senior by nearly fifteen years, but Nain was ambitious and had not wanted to live in his cousin’s shadow. He had started to develop his own business contacts as he had started to disassociate himself from Thrain and his sons. Then Dain had set up that whitewash scandal which ultimately had ended up in him selling his cousin out to the pigs. His elder cousin had served nearly twelve years and towards the end of his sentence he had developed a lung infection which had resulted in his death within three months of him walking out of prison. Thrain’s eldest son, Thorin, had declared an all-out war with his traitorous kin which had lasted for nearly four years. When the tentative peace had finally returned Nain had opted for semi-retirement leaving his own son in charge of the family affairs.

Ori doesn't remember much of his life from before his mother had remarried the mafia boss. He had been very young and so this life is really all he knows. But despite that he had never really fitted in. The thirst for thrills and power that seemed to flow through the Durin bloodline like a heroin injection did not run through his blood. And as he had grown into manhood the differences between him and his stepbrother had become increasingly obvious.

“He’s no boy,” Dain spits, but quickly bites his tongue. He may well be the second-most-feared-man in town – and god, how he hates that Thorin still crowns the top spot! – but they all know that despite Nain’s fragility he is still very much capable of handing out some of the finest corporal punishment when his sons are disobedient.

“Get in the car,” Nain grumbles at Ori. He has a great fondness for his stepson. His second wife, Ori’s mother, had died nearly four years ago now and he had loved her dearly and still mourned her death. She had been such a sweet soul and Nain had spent every day of their being together wondering way she had chosen to be with him – a career criminal and underworld leader. But love can flow in mysterious ways.

Ori reminds him a lot of his belated wife – his gentle, dreamy nature, his red hair and the freckles on his cheeks. And although Nain would never admit it to anyone – not even to himself – he favours his stepson over his own blood. Dain had been an angry and mean child. There is something disturbed about him; a psychopathic sort of streak that made even Nain question some of his decisions. But Dain is still his blood-son and of course he cares for him. He enjoys going to see these fights that his son is sponsoring. It had been a long while since they all had gone down together for such entertainment. And the old man feels a little excitement coil in his stomach at the pleasure of watching one of the finest fighters that he had ever known represent his family in the ring tonight.

Ori shuffles onto the leather back seat next to his brother as his stepfather takes a seat opposite them after instructing their driver where to take them. He glances out of the window, only seeing his own reflection in the darkened glass, and sighs quietly. He hates going to these events. He has only been to a few of them over the years but he had found them perfectly distasteful. Watching grown men beat as close the life out of each other as possible was not his idea of pleasant Friday night entertainment.

The only pleasure he knows he would get from tonight is to be found outside of the actual fights. He enjoys seeing the muscled gladiators showing of their wares so to say. He likes the human form, especially that of those strong males. He likes to draw them and had taken many live art classes over the years; both to improve his technique and to enjoy the couple of hours staring unashamedly at the beautifully struck pose of such a perfect male specimen. It's like looking at a piece of art, the flow of those muscles underneath the skin, the raw strength contained within the soft flesh. He himself is never going to be like that. He feels his body had the masculinity of a petal flower only less pretty. But he can dream of running his fingers over one of those mighty men...

 He takes another deep sigh to shake him back to reality before his thoughts become more physically obvious. Of course this is not for his stepbrother or -father to know and he will be careful to keep his glances hooded throughout the night.

***

Dwalin had expected Kili and Fili to be so high on adrenaline that he would have to tie them down. But he finds the two brothers unusually subdued in their dressing room as they're mentally preparing for their fight. It pleases Dwalin how far along they have come. They might be reckless at times but the fact that they're not going into this fight with their usual youthful overconfidence, but take the time to relax and properly prepare is a positive sign.

“Are you okay, lads?” he enquires. “Are you excited?”

“Yes, master Dwalin!” the boys chorus.

Dwalin lays his hands on both brothers’ shoulders. “Good. I am really proud of you, lads. You have trained hard and I know you will fight well tonight.”

Fili just nods with a slight smile on his face and Kili looks up at him with the biggest grin like a young schoolboy would at the praise of a teacher.

He worked with the young men for a short while to check over their weapons and just practise a few more of their defensive techniques, before Thorin walks in.

Even then, his nephews are more reserved than they normally are. And Dwalin can see why as he picks up on the darkness in Thorin’s face that puts a fright into a lot of people. His friend always getst into this state when the fights are about to commence. It's like a sinister sort of arousal and although it's not something Dwalin wants to think about, Thorin isn’t abashed about the fact that he often gets hard watching the fights, getting off on the exchange of sweated blows and the raining down of blood as men fight against men for his pleasure. And he also knows that Thorin has more than once bedded the victor of such fights if they had fought well enough to deserve such favourable treatment.

Thorin walks over and hugs Dwalin hard. “Are my boys ready?”

“They are, Thorin,” Dwalin answers confidently. “They will fight well, I am sure of it. I am about to go and check on Bark now.” And he leaves his friend and boss with his nephews with just a little bit of anxiety in his stomach, hoping very much that Thorin would not ruin their calm mental preparation.

Bark looks like a prowling wolf as he stalks around the perimeter of his dressing room. It's still not possible to communicate with him in anything other than sign language so Dwalin just puts his thumbs up at the man who grunts in his deep voice, whilst slamming a fist against his chest, “S _ul ghelekh barkûr ra turg!”_  which could have meant as much as your mother is a donkey to Dwalin, but he accepts it as an acknowledgement that the guy is happy to fight tonight.

He checks over the Kamas. They're not sharpened – this fight is for entertainment and with it probably some injury and blood flow, but not to kill each other – and weighs the weapons in his hands, checking the balance. “Good,” he says, again sticking up his thumb, hoping to god that it was not some sort of insult in the man’s native culture.

“I will call you when you’re up,” he says, earning him a shrug from the dark-haired man and a non-comprehending nod. Dwalin just grins at him and gives him a pat on the back, before leaving the dressing room.

***

These are Thorin’s premises and Dwalin thinks they're among the better he had seen. Of course, nothing less than perfect would do for Mr Oakenshield. The underground cellar is fairly intimate although larger than a lot of other places that Dwalin had fought in. The arena itself is reasonably large to allow the fighters to swing their weapons. The raised platform is surrounded by tall wired fencing, padded around the edges, as much to keep the crowd as the fighters safe. There's ample standing room around the ring for fans that like to get up close and personal with the action. Then there is the raised ring of seats running along three quarters of the arena. And finally there is the seating area for the sponsors, laid out with plush seats and tables and a private bar at the back; the wealthy would want for nothing as they watched their bloodsports.

Dwalin climbs the little set of stairs up to the heavily guarded area. He guesses Thorin is still in the dressing room with his nephews, but he's pleased to find Dis, comfortably sipping a Martini. She doesn't always attend the fights, only big events or when her boys are in the ring. These events don't attract many female fans in general, although in recent years the number of women both watching and participating in the sport had started to rise. And one look at Dis leaves Dwalin with no doubt that the lady would hold her own well enough if anyone were to push her to it.

Dwalin isn't a natural charmer, but he does his best as he stoops down to place a kiss on her hand. “M’lady Durin,” he smiles. “You look nice.” Probably not the most romantic sounding compliment, but he had never been good with words.

“Thank you, master Dwalin,” Dis smiles as she pats the empty seat next to her. He takes it tentatively. “Can I get you a drink?” she asks ready to snap her fingers, but Dwalin shakes his head.

“No ma’am. Maybe after the fight. If we have something to celebrate.”

“I am sure we will. I am sure you will have trained the man Thorin has chosen well. And I look forward to seeing how my boys have improved since their last fight.”

Dwalin nods and is about to say something else when Thorin appears. He walks over to them, motioning Dwalin to move out of his seat. Dwalin thinks he's a cock for it since there are plenty of other seats, but he gets up nonetheless. Normally his friend is not this arrogant with him and it's clear in the tightness in his jaw that things are about to get tense and he's not about to push Thorin’s buttons.

He's quickly proven right when he sees the three men and their entourage approach. He recognises Nain and his son Dain immediately. But the other man who walks beside Nain doesn't look familiar.

As they ascend the stairs Thorin and Dis rise to their feet and Thorin motions to Dwalin to stand next to him. It's common practice that before the start of the fight the challenging sponsors would shake hands with the hosts. Why exactly Thorin wants Dwalin to join in this ritual is not clear to him although he guesses it's something silly like if the Dains come in threes, Thorin wanta there to be an equal number to greet them.

Nain looks frailer than Dwalin remembers him. He can't quite guess at the man’s age, but he's sure that his lifestyle has not helped him to age dignifiedly. Nain bows to Dis and kisses her upheld hand, before he shakes hands with her brother. Dwalin receives the surprisingly firm handshake next. “I look forward to what you have brought to the arena,” Nain smiles at him. And Dwalin cannot help but think that the man looks more like a granddad than a mafioso now. He gives a sort of a smile back. Smiling, like romancing, does not come easily to Dwalin.

“Master Dwalin!” He scowls at the next person in the line, thinking again that Dain is a despicable being. Regardless of whether or not he's responsible for Frerin’s death, the man is just dislikeable through and through. He's arrogant and conceited beyond measure and Dwalin would have loved nothing more to put him on his ass and wipe the smile of the brat’s face there and then. But he ends up just staring his coldest stare at the man as he reluctantly shakes his hand.

He's still following Dain with his stare when the next hand is held out to him. He blinks at the brown eyes looking up shyly at him from under a red fringe that looks like it had been cut by a butcher rather than a barber. The hand that shakes his is soft, more like a girl’s than a man’s hand, Dwalin thinks. “I’m Ori,” the man smiles almost sweetly at him, at which Dwalin raises an eyebrow. “Nain’s stepson,” he explains.

“Right,” Dwalin gruffs and as he realises he's still holding on to that soft hand he quickly lets go.

Ori smiles at him again, giving him a shy nod of the head before he follows his stepbrother and stepfather to the other side of the private area, where they place their orders with the waitress clad in a skin-tight black catsuit before seating themselves comfortably.

Dwalin makes his excuse to Thorin to go and find The Twins ready for the warm up fight.

***

Kili and Fili are doing him proud. Their offence is perfectly timed between them, keeping an uninterrupted volley of blows raining down on their opponents. One of the opposing fighters is no match for the two brothers whatsoever and a quick blow from Fili whilst Kili has the other occupied, renders him incapacitated within less than four minutes.

The crowd shouts their approval and Dwalin is pleased by how animated the supporters are. It's always easier for the fighters to perform at their best if the crowd is edging them on and he could see from his vantage point that Kili especially is relishing the cheering around him.

Dwalin looks over to Thorin, but his friend remains impassive. He always does during the fights, staring almost as if hypnotised at the action going on in front of him. Then again Dwalin cannot imagine him leaping from his seat and shouting his encouragement. That's not Thorin’s way. Dis too watches her boys with a calm and casual stirring of the olive in her latest martini and Dwalin is impressed by the speed at which she seems to put the drinks away. The woman can drink most men under the table.

He glances to the other side of the platform. Dain just looks bored. He's here for only one thing – to watch his star fighter tear Thorin’s offer to pieces. Nain is animatedly chatting at his stepson Ori, clearly doing his best to explain the rules and techniques. But Dwalin notes that the red-head is not really listening, nor is he watching the fight. Instead his gaze locks with Dwalin and he gives him another soft smile. Dwalin is confused. Why is this lad smiling at him like that? He even looks behind him, expecting to find some pretty waitress standing next to him but he realises quickly it's just him. He isn’t quite sure what to make of that.

Fortunately the roaring of the crowd makes him quickly refocus his attention on The Twins and their remaining opponent. The other had proved himself well enough holding his own against both the Durin boys simultaneously for longer than expected. But right then Kili brings him down with an easy swipe as his brother has both his arms engaged trying to defend the relentless attack. As the man lands heavily on his back he loses the grip on his own weapon and Fili pounces on him and presses his Tonfa hard enough against the man’s throat to bruise his trachea.

The crowd shouts out their enjoyment as the two brothers hug each other tightly when the referee calls the fight in The Twins’ favour and their opponents leave the ring bruised and bloodied.

***

There's a brief break before the main event and Dwalin and Thorin go to meet the boys and walk them back to their dressing room to get them cleaned up.

 “You fought well, lads,” Dwalin says in earnest as he embraces first Kili and then Fili.

“Thanks, Dwalin,” Fili grins.

Kili's already running past him as he flies into Thorin’s arms who traces a large finger over his swollen lip, before pressing a kiss against the bloody split in the skin there as if to kiss it better. Dwalin averts his eyes at the gesture as he steers Fili towards their dressing room, hoping that Thorin is doing the same with Kili.

In the bright neon lights he's able to check over the boys’ injuries and is quickly joined by Oin who's Thorin’s personal physician and the appointed medic for all Thorin’s fighters.

“Just a few bruises and scratches,” he mumbles as he checks Fili over once more before he moves onto Kili. “Same with you. I will put a bandage over that cut on your forearm. But you have defended yourself well enough by the looks of it. Nothing too serious.”

“Excellent,” Thorin smiles as he strokes his hand through the sweaty strands of brown and blond hair. Then he turns to Dwalin. “Ready?” Dwalin nods, feeling a nervous twitch in his chest. Ready as he ever is going to be. “Return to your mother when you are cleaned up,” Thorin orders the brothers. “I will see you there.” And he walks ahead of Dwalin to the other dressing room to wish his main fighter good luck.

***

Thorin leaves him with Bark after his good luck wishes and returns to his family. Dwalin does a few warm ups with the man, nothing to strenuous, just to get him in the right frame of mind and his muscles warm enough so as not to cause immediate injury.

And then it's time and he guides the wild-haired foreigner towards the arena.

The crowd goes wild at the sight of Thorin’s chosen warrior for tonight. A newby is always exciting, especially one that looks as ferocious as Bark does.

But the noise becomes positively deafening when Dain’s man appears with his trainer at his side. Dwalin knows Dain’s trainer well. He had fought the man enough times himself and had a lot of respect for him. And he's not a small guy, but next to his fighter he looks like a child.

Dwalin takes a deep intake of breath as the pale skin of The Defiler gleams in the light. The huge gladiator looks like he had never seen daylight with his albino skin and ice cold eyes. He grins a wide smile at Dwalin and Bark, showing of his teeth which had been filed into sharp points. Dwalin had heard the stories of how he had been known to tear flesh from bone with those teeth. Biting is technically not allowed in these fights, but rules are often brushed aside if the crowd becomes excited.

Azog steps into the ring and throws off his training jacket, showing off the scarifications in his skin. Especially the deep grooves across his chest are enough to make a grown man want to whimper.

Dwalin looks over at his fighter, but is glad to find that the smaller man doesn't seem in the slightest bit fazed. In fact he seems more keen than ever. So Dwalin takes his training jacket from him and hands him his Kamas. The man salutes him with the same fist punch against his own chest and Dwalin repeats the gesture in return, which clearly pleased his fighter. “Fight with honour, friend,” Dwalin says before he leaves the ring. He knows the man doesn'T not understand him but he feels the word befitted the silent salute well enough.

When he returns to his seat at the sponsors’ area he finds Kili flaked out on Thorin’s lap as his boss runs his hand up the inside of his nephew’s leg. He sure isn’t subtle, even with Dis sat next to the two of them.

Fili disappears to the bar to get them all drinks and Dwalin goes over to help him. “I am proud of ya, son,” he says and Fili gives him a wide smile. “Bark will be fighting with the Kamas tonight. If you like what you see, then I will speak to Thorin tomorrow. See if can start you training with them?”

“Really?! Oh thanks, Dwalin!” Fili puts his arms around his neck and kisses his bald head, causing Dwalin to blush slightly.  

“Alright, lad, no need for that,” he says a little uncomfortably. But he's glad for Fili’s enthusiasm.

Dwalin hands Thorin his whiskey and puts Kili’s drink on the table in front of them. Thorin doesn’t say anything, just gives him that grin as Fili nestles himself on Thorin’s other side. But Dwalin is not going to rise to Thorin’s silent challenge thrown at him from behind those dark pupils as he breaths in the air of Kili’s sweaty hair. Challenging him to do what? Say something? Blush? Be jealous? So Thorin likes to fuck his winners and if this is his way of saying that he did not consider the same blood running through their veins to be an obstacle in that fantasy than it is not Dwalin’s place to comment. But he also isn’t going to indulge his friend with his unease. He hates the arousal he feels nonetheless in his belly at the thought of Thorin playing his sexual games, the erotic tension hanging thick in the air, and he turns around before he gives Thorin the satisfaction of such a reaction. The Durin’s are one fucked up family for sure, he thinks.

As he quickly seats himself down to hide his discomfort, he glances over at the Dains, trying to sense their mood as the fight is about to commence. Damn, that red-head is looking at him again! Why does he even care? He isn’t even his type. And he scolds himself even harder as he feels his face pull into that ridiculous grimace that was supposed to resemble a smile. It 's sure to frighten the guy off in any case, looking like some crazed dog as he does.

He blames Thorin for raising his testosterone levels with his indecency. And he had never been more relieved in his life when the bell sounds to announce the start of the fight.


	6. Chapter 6

They had never seen anything like it. Bark was barely more than half the size of his infamous opponent, but his attack was no less vicious for it. Even Dwalin, who had never seen the man fight in the arena before and had only been able to assess his skills through their sparring, was pleasantly surprised.

He looked over to Fili who had abandoned his brother and uncle and was on his feet now, shouting in delight as Bark wielded the Kamas in a smooth flash of steel and drew a fine line of blood on Azog’s thigh. The retaliation came quick and the crowd ooh’ed and aah’ed as The Defiler’s hook swords – one in hand, the other a clever modification screwed onto his stump - swished down onto Bark chest, slicing a deep gash in his flesh.

Dwalin too was on the edge of his seat now, as he could hear Dain shouting his pleasure at the successful hit. Bark’s upper body was pushed back by the blow for just the briefest of moments but he was like a mountain, grounded to the core, and he barely flinched as his flesh was torn. It just angered him and Azog’s next forward motion was blocked and turned against him, using his own force to drive the blow forward.

Kili had joined his brother now, cheering at their colleague as he held his stance against yet more violent blows. Dwalin could see the bigger warrior was getting frustrated with the lack of hold his hits were getting and it was a dangerous weakness that brought many fighters down. He hoped that Bark would pick up on it as he had and take advantage of it.

***

Ori did his best to look interested. His stepbrother was getting himself in a right state as he kept jumping up, punching the air when the fight went in his favour and sinking back down in utter despair when the tide turned on him. Ori thought it looked funny, seeing a grown man get so worked up over something he was not directly engaged in himself. This was the thing with Dain. He didn't know Dain’s cousin, Thorin, very well, but from what he had heard the man was strong, a fighter himself and not afraid to get his hands dirty. Whereas Dain would cry if he got a papercut. It was all bravado. And Ori had very little respect for that sort of hot air, especially as Dain was so eager to point out how weak Ori was. Well, that might be so but at least he was not pretending it to be otherwise.

Still, the fight was entertaining, if only for the fact that Thorin’s much shorter fighter was giving Dain’s big brute a run for his money. The audience was ecstatic. Ori noticed even Thorin and his sister were getting animated, which was quite unlike what he had seen of the pair previously.

And then there was Thorin’s trainer. Ori could not stop glancing over at him. He was just everything a man should be. Big, strong, a little rough looking. He was especially intrigued by the tattoos that decorated the top of his head. How he would love to have a closer look at those.

He was taken out of his day dreams when Dain let out the mightiest of cries, as if he had just been stabbed in the gut. Ori looked at him with genuine concern for just a split second before he realised it was all theatre. And when he looked back over to the arena he could see the reason for his stepbrother’s despair as his tall warrior was clasping at his right forearm, the blood spurting across the rubber floor. The referee called the fight as a medic ran to assist.

***

 It was a clever move, Dwalin mused, requiring very little force as The Defiler’s own downwards movement when he tried to strike Bark was caught onto he upward turned blades of the Kamas. And despite the blades not being sharpened, the force with which it came into contact with flesh and the cross movement with which Bark pulling the weapons apart again was enough to cut deep enough to hit the artery. Azog attempted to ignore the wound at first, despite the blood immediately coating the floor beneath him. But a second quick blow in his brief moment of confusion landed heavy against his knee, bringing him sinking down into his own blood. The referee was sensible enough to call the fight in Bark’s favour when the fighters slithered over the slippery surface as they continued to scrabble with each other. After all this was not supposed to be a fight to the death and the gushing of blood would need urgent medical attention.

Just as Dwalin was about to turn around, Thorin was already next to him and grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth. “You beautiful fucker,” he growled as Dwalin froze under the uninvited touch. “Let me buy you a drink. Now we celebrate!”

He was gone before Dwalin had a chance to recover from the intrusion into his personal space. He would join his boss and friend for a drink, but first he had to go to his fighter. They always had his priority.

Bark looked shattered but elated. He spoke animatedly in his deep-throated language as Dwalin put an arm around him, guiding him towards his sponsor’s seating area. Fili was the first to run over, congratulating his colleague and chattering just as enthusiastically about how fantastic he thought the Kamas were and how Dwalin had promised him he might be able to try them himself. Dwalin thought it was amazing how the two fighters seemed to be able to hold an entire conversation without speaking a word of each other’s language, just through a joint passion.

Thorin walked over and shoved whiskey in Dwalin’s hand, clinking his own glass against his. “To victory!” he cheered.

Nain strode up to them. At least he had some honour about him in his older age and he held out his hand to Thorin. “Congratulations. I am most impressed.” Thorin took his hand, giving him a curt but appreciative nod.

Dain, however, had no such manners. He did not even move his backside from his seat as he remained sulking in the corner like a young child who had lost at a game of conkers. And it made Dwalin and Thorin smirk all the more in their victory.

Ori had followed his stepfather, joining in congratulating Thorin, before he also took the opportunity to shake hands again with Dwalin, who accepted the gesture with a little surprise. “It must take a very good trainer to deliver such a memorable performance,” the red-haired man spoke as if he was quoting a poem.

“Eh, thanks,” Dwalin replied, instantly wishing he was better with words than this. But Ori was already gone before he was able to form another sentence, trotting after his stepfather who was now giving his congratulations to Dis, before the losing sponsors said their goodbyes and left the cellars, Dain scowling every step of the way, much to Thorin’s delight.

***

The next morning Dwalin arrived early at the mansion. Thorin and he always went jogging together on a Saturday morning, even after a late night fight like yesterday's. He had left before the others, getting himself a cab home, leaving Bark in the company of Thorin and Dis.

Thorin was already up and looking impeccable as ever, even in his jogging gear, as he offered Dwalin a cup of tea, which he declined. The smirk across Thorin's face told him plainly that his friend had gotten enough of what he wanted last night. And probably more than that, Dwalin thought as Kili and Fili bounded into the dining room next, both giggling as they caught Thorin’s wink at them and looking rather dishevelled with their bed hair and blushy cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” Dwalin enquired awkwardly, keen to get out into the fresh air rather than breathe in the morning-after-the-night-before atmosphere in the house.

“Still drinking my tea,” Thorin replied stoically as he accepted the kisses on either cheek from his nephews.

Dwalin and he remained standing, leaning against the antique dresser, whilst the boys ordered a cooked breakfast with one of the servants before seating themselves at the table, chatting loudly about the fight.

Dwalin nearly choked when the rough form of last night's main event winner appeared in the doorway next, looking a little lost and very out of place amongst the grandeur of the room. However Fili was quick to offer him a seat which the man took with a curt nod.

'Jesus, Thorin!' Dwalin hissed though his teeth.

Thorin chuckled. 'I'm flattered that you rate my stamina so highly, my friend. But that wasn't me.'

Dwalin's eyes grew a little too large when Dis appeared next, like her brother not a hair out of place.

'Morning, sister dear, ' Thorin grinned at her.

'Good morning, brother,” she nodded at the two of them. “Dwalin.” She ruffled her sons' hair before pouring herself a cup of tea. “Tea, Bifur?” she offered the newcomer next, holding up the tea pot.

Dwalin raised an eyebrow. “She has a knack for languages,” Thorin whispered in his ear. And as leaned in even closer to his friend, “Then again I think I have learnt a few words myself after the noises coming out of her room last night.”

Dwalin turned a bright shade of red, the feeling of which made his cheeks flame even more.

“Would you care to repeat that brother?” Dis demanded from her place at the table, but Thorin just smiled his charming smile at her before making his way towards the exit, Dwalin hot on his heels.

***

It was remarkably warm for the time of year and both men were soon in a sweat as Dwalin set a good pace for them.

“Good fight last night. Thanks for delivering such a fine spectacle.” Thorin complimented, once his breathing had found a steady rhythm. He was clearly in a much better mood this morning.

“No problem. Bark is a good fighter,” Dwalin replied. He realised this was probably the best opportunity he was going to get to ask for next Saturday off. “Would it be a problem if I cancelled next Saturday's training? Sorry it's short notice.”

Thorin considered for a moment. “That should be fine. I'm sure you are due a break. Planning anything nice?”

“Ehm visiting family. Sick aunt,” Dwalin mumbled, so obviously making up a rubbish excuse that Thorin could not help but mock him.

“Ah what a pity. And there's me thinking you have a hot date planned!” The hot blush in his friend’s face did not go unnoticed and it was not from exertion. “Aaaw, don't be shy,” he teased.

“Shut up, Thorin.”

“Oh indulge me,” Thorin continued to pry, enjoying himself way too much. “What is going on in Dwalin's love life? When was the time you got laid?”

“Jesus Thorin,” Dwalin sputtered, “that's none of your fucking business.”

“Oh but the welfare of my best friend and my employee is very much my business. And it is only fair since I never keep such matters from you…” He knew full well that the comment would send his friend spluttering.

Dwalin took the bait sure enough. “I don’t fucking ask you to tell me about every lad or lass you are nailing, you just do!” Thorin has stopped to a walking pace as he watches his friend spit through his outrage. “Shit, Thorin you even …”

“Even what? Spit it out, Dwalin. I haven’t got all day while you stand here coughing words at me.”

“You … Oh fuck you.”

Thorin knew he should shut up. He was really pushing his friend too far but the game was too much fun to give in so quickly. “Ah, now I had given that a thought. If you have been dry for so long, maybe I should take care of you myself.”

Dwalin pushed him onto his arse in the grassy verge in one easy sweep, surprising the both of them. “Thorin, sorry,” he groaned. Thorin might be his friend, but he was also his boss and a lethal one at that. But as he stuck out his hand, Thorin just pulled him down with him, wrestling him until he was pinned underneath Thorin.

“You were saying?” Thorin smirked.

Dwalin was reeling now. “Don’t flatter yourself, Oakenshield. I have no need for your cock. Especially after going … there.”

“And where is there?”

“Kili! Or even both your nephews, I don’t even fucking wanna know!” He was so outraged that he managed to flip Thorin onto his back, reversing their roles.

To his surprise Thorin just burst out laughing, shuddering under him. “Such a dirty mind,” he tutted. “Well, if you must know, I didn’t. I did not _go there_ as you put it so eloquently.”

Dwalin stilled, flushing now more than ever. “Oh… I …” Had he really made such a grave error of judgement? Accusing his volatile boss of shagging his nephews was not exactly a clever move, especially if he had got it wrong. Had Thorin and the boys really just be winding him up?

“Oh I love it when you squirm like that.”

Dwalin’s eyebrows knitted together in a dark frown. “Stop being a twat, Oakenshield.” He got up and pulled his boss to his feet.

“They were far too busy with each other. Still, it was fun watching them,” Thorin said silently enough to make out as if he had never intended for Dwalin to hear it, but loud enough so that he did, before he picked up the pace again, leaving a dumbfound Dwalin behind.

When he finally caught up with Thorin, his blush had barely subsided.

“So anyway,” Thorin continued where they had left up, much to Dwalin’s annoyance. “Before you starting prying into my sex life, we were talking about yours. Or lack of it, it seems. Now, since you have done such a good job with Bark, how about I treat you? Next Sunday you and I go to one of my parlours and we’ll have some fun. You pick whoever and whatever you like off the menu. My gift to you. Hm?”

Dwalin wanted to answer with another snarl that Thorin needed to mind his own business. But truth was, it had been a long time since he got some. Next Sunday… If by the faintest chance his dreams became reality and he could take Jezebel out for a drink on the Saturday then he could still cancel on Thorin. But the likelihood was that he would barely get a chance to say hello before the next fan would take his place for a signature and his dream goddess would not even remember his name. In which case he might as well take Thorin up on his offer. “Sure.”

And Thorin smiled a satisfied smile as they picked up pace, keeping quiet to concentrate on their breathing, for the last leg of their run.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the third time Ori had woken up in the middle of the night and his phone told him it was only half past three in the morning. He didn’t understand why he was this restless. The fight of Friday night had been the usual bloodbath, yet he had found it more entertaining than normal. Watching Dain squirm when his fighter had lost had been worth it if nothing else. And he had thought how funny it was that he and Thorin behaved like kids in a playground, sulking and pulling faces at each other over what Ori just saw as a silly game, even if it was a nasty one. These two men were supposed to be in control of the underworld in this part of the country and yet they were so poorly in control of their own emotions that they behaved like adolescents.

But that was not what was keeping him awake. There was something niggling at him. Something in the back of his mind that he could not quite put his finger on.

He sighed in exasperation as he knew he would not drift off to sleep again now. He had a deadline to meet, writing his weekly column for the local newspaper and since he was not getting any sleep now he thought he might as well get up and have a go at writing it.

As he sleepily sat at his desk, waiting for his laptop to boot up, he thought about his other stream of income, the one he enjoyed far more than writing about local politics and taxes. Of course he wrote both his column and his novels under pseudonyms. He probably would have anyway, certainly for his novels, but with his direct links to the mafia it was simply too dangerous to use his own name. The newspaper did not even know who he was. He was a freelancer and even had a bank account set up in his fake name. It was not hard; his family dabbled in the provision of false identifies as easily as one would buy a new car. With regards to his novels, the pseudonym was as much for his protection as well as creating a fantasy for his readers. 

He had argued with his agent about the upcoming book signing. He still wasn’t happy with it, would never have agreed to it if Gandalf hadn’t waved such an attractive paycheque under his nose. He was close to desperate to move out and start his own life. He knew that once his stepfather had passed away he would try and sever any links he had with the Dain family. He did not want to have any more association with their dirty business. Nain was the only thing that was still keeping him here. When he was gone Ori would just leave the city and move to the countryside somewhere. It didn’t matter for his work; he could write from anywhere.

He opened up the folder that had the draft of his column in it. He was supposed to write something witty about the new development in town, which had already cost twice the allocated budget – nothing new there – and had fallen four months behind its original deadline – also hardly any news. How on earth was he supposed to say anything clever about a bunch of high street shops and another eight-screen cinema, especially at nearly four o’clock in the morning? He had no ideas, no inspiration and the frustration was getting to his normally gentle nature. He shoved himself away from his desk and got up to boil the kettle. He drank his coffee black and he had the kettle and the pot of instant in his room, so he didn’t even have to venture out of his bedroom. This was not the first time that he had found himself writing at some ridiculous-o’clock in the morning so he was well prepared.

As he was absentmindedly stirring the granules around in his mug, waiting for them to dissolve and still trying to come up with some bright idea for tomorrow’s deadline, all of a sudden a light bulb went up in his head.

He jumped back onto his desk chair, the motion already sending him rolling back towards his desk. He quickly unlocked his desktop and opened up his emails. His agent forwarded him any fan mail. Not that he got stacks of it, but still a surprising amount of readers did send messages in. Most were women – his intended audience – and if he ever did get any fan mail from a guy it tended to be something sleazy, even dirty pictures of men pleasuring themselves in front of the camera. So when he had received this particular message it had stood out from the rest. It had not been very eloquently written, but it had been kind and honourable and Ori had been able to tell it had been from the heart.

It took him ages to find it. Why hadn’t he flagged it or filed it somewhere? Was it a week ago? Two weeks? He could even remember what the subject read. He was almost about to give up, when he finally spotted it.

As soon as he clicked on the message it opened up in the preview screen. He frantically scrolled down the message, which was not very long, to the signature.

_Dwalin_

It said Dwalin. It was written by someone called Dwalin. He had remembered it right. It wasn’t a very common name now, was it? He did not think he heard it before he got this particular email. And yet he had heard the same name again a few nights ago when he had been introduced to Thorin’s trainer…

Nah … surely not. There must be more people called Dwalin. It was just a funny coincidence.

Still, it reminded him about the tall, bald fighter nonetheless. Ori found his eyes closing at the memory. How he had struggled to keep his eyes on the boring happenings in the arena, rather than openly staring at the tattooed man. He would like to see the man again. But that would prove problematic in itself. Dwalin was Thorin’s trainer, his stepbrother’s arch enemy. And they had seemed pretty close too. Dain would string him up if he found him strolling into Thorin’s territory, getting acquainted with his nearest and dearest.

And finally some inspiration hit him and he flicked back over to his column to start writing.

***

Saturday had come around much too soon and yet not soon enough. He had gotten more and more in a jitter over it as the week went by. Thorin had not helped, of course. He had been winding him up at every opportunity and by Friday Dwalin had been close to punching him.

But none of that mattered now. He was here and he was going to meet his heroine.

He was amazed at the size of the exhibition and even more so by the state of dress – or better said undress – that most of the visitors seemed to be in. He had not really looked into what the exhibition was all about – other than erotica as the name clearly suggested. In hindsight perhaps he should have. Having lived in close proximity to Thorin Oakenshield and family for most of his life he was not so easily shocked. But having such an array of dildos and master and slave wear shoved into his face no matter which way he turned was making him feel a little uncomfortable. With a smirk he thought that perhaps he should have asked Thorin to come with him after all as he was sure his boss would enjoy the entertainment on display. And for a moment he was petrified he might actually bump into him here, until he reminded himself that Thorin had travelled north for a business meeting – whatever ‘business’ that meant.

He consulted the pile of leaflets that he had been given at the entrance. Most of them were flyers for all sorts of dodgy internet shops, but one was a programme that also contained a map. His finger scrolled down the list of stands until he located what seemed to be the area in the exhibition for erotic literature.

He looked at his watch. It was ten in the morning and according to the leaflet Jezebel would start her signing at half past. He decided to grab himself a coffee first before he battled his way through luminously clad women and scantily dressed men towards the purple zone on the map.

His heartbeat sped up as he could see the cover of Jezebel’s latest novel enlarged on the side banners. It was called _Liberation_ and the picture showed a prison guard kissing a woman prisoner on the neck above a setting of prison gates; it was quite clear what the subject of this novel was.

As he came closer he noted that a small queue had already formed, which hid the table from his view.

He joined the back of the queue and suddenly he realised his palms were sweaty. He vigorously rubbed them down the side of his trousers, but then concluding that that probably looked more dodgy then it was meant to so he stopped and just put his hands in his pockets. He had done his best to dress well for the occasion. He was never going to have as much swag as Thorin who managed to look good in just about anything. But he had taken care to iron his shirt and he wore his best jeans.

The queue had finally moved far enough forward so he could catch a glimpse. He noted he had been right about the hair – black and wavy – but he was a little disappointed that the woman behind the table seemed awfully skinny, young and plastered in far too much make-up. It had not been quite the picture he had had in his head. She looked too staged. Too much like any of the other people who were displaying themselves around here.

He was next in line now and although was excited still to get a signature, he was not even sure anymore if he wanted to ask this woman out. Not that he had the courage anyhow. But even if he had had… she just did not seem his type.

She gave him a wide smile with those cherry red lips as he shuffled in front of the table.

“Hello, cutie, what is your name?” she asked with a thick London accent.

“Dwalin,” he grinned back. He still had not managed a natural smile. She was pretty enough. Just a little fake and under-dressed. Not the kind of picture that seemed to go with her novels at all, which are all about classy and slightly older women than this lass seemed to be. “I sent you an email, remember?”

The woman looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Dwalin,” he said again. “You sent me an email back too.”

“Hm, sure.” The woman picked up a book from the pile next to her. “Dwalin you say? How do I spell that?”

“D … W … Look, I have you email here.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket with the printout of the email, getting a little frustrated now.

All of a sudden there was a large hand on his shoulder. “Sir.”

He swung around staring in the face of a very tall man with a long grey beard and grey hair. “Look, I just…” he began.

But the older man interrupted him. “Please come with me.”

Dwalin stared at him and then looked back at the woman behind the desk who just raised her eyebrows, clearly eager for him to move away from the desk.

“Sir.”

He shrugged. None of this had gone to plan so far and he had already been disappointed. He thought he probably should not have come here today. He should just have remained in the blissful unawareness of his fantasies.

He followed the tall man to the area behind the stands.

“What is this all about then?” he enquiried. “I just wanted to show her the email she wrote me back. To remind her.”

“She didn’t write it,” the grey man answered with his deep gravelly voice indicating that he was probably a heavy smoker.

“What?”

“Dwalin, right?”

“Yeah…” He was beginning to get a little worried now. What was going on? Was this anything to do with his connection to Thorin?

“You must swear that you do not go to the press with this.”

“What?”

“Swear it!”

“No. What? I don’t even know. What ye’r…”

“It’s okay, Gandalf,” a voice came from behind him. A strangely familiar voice. “I know him. He won’t say anything.”

As he whirled around he came face to face with the red-haired guy who had been at the fight the Friday previous. Nain’s stepson. What was his name again? “You! What are you doing here? What is this all about? Has Dain…?”

“This has nothing to do with him,” Ori answered, trying to calm Dwalin down before he started shouting. “I am the author. I am _Jezebel Dainty_.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the second half on my phone at work (in my lunch break!!!) which is a nightmare so have just tidied it up a little.

Dwalin realised his mouth had fallen open only when Ori pushed it closed with his thumb. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee to help you recover from the shock?” the red-head offered and as he got no response from his admirer, he pulled him along by the sleeve of his shirt towards the catering stand. He made Dwalin take a seat on one of the plastic chairs, which looked like it would collapse under Dwalin’s weight,  and then walked over to buy some hot beverages.

“White?” he shouted over.

“Black, two sugar,” Dwalin replied automatically. He could not quite believe what was going on. One minute he thought he was going to meet his dream woman and take her out for a romantic meal later and now he was sat here about to drink overpriced instant coffee with Dain’s stepbrother. It was not quite how he had envisaged his first date with Jezebel Dainty to go.

“There you go.” Ori put the polystyrene cup in front of him and pulled out a seat for himself.

For a few minutes there was silence between them as they both sipped tentatively at their coffees, each of them cursing as the hot liquid burnt their lips.

“Damn it, why do they have to make these coffees so effing hot?” Ori scowled. “You should never pour boiling water on coffee granules. It makes the coffee bitter!”

“Exactly!” Dwalin agreed. “That’s what I always say!”

Ori smiled at him. “So, I guess you are wondering what the blinking hell is going on, right?”

Dwalin shrugged. “Guess I am just an idiot.” He stared hard at the dark liquid in his cup.

“No, you’re not. Why do you think we put that girl out there? Because everyone likes to think that Jezebel is this exotic bird. And not just the men either!” He winked at Dwalin who raised an eyebrow at him. “Look, I feel crap about it. When I sent you the email telling you about the signing, I didn’t know that this was what Gandalf – he’s my agent by the way – had in mind. But he managed to convince me that no-one was going to want to buy erotic fiction of a guy who wears granny mittens and woolly cardigans. Well, I couldn’t really argue with him, now could I?”

“Why not?”

“Are you for real?” Ori laughed. “Because it is not exactly a turn on, is it?”

“But… they are your books! You let some woman who barely seems able to write her own name sign your beautiful books and take all the credit for your amazing work!”

Ori stared at him, blushing a little. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do!” Dwalin realised he was being a little too enthusiastic. “Sorry. I just think your books are really good. They are so descriptive and …” He blushed deeply now. “Nevermind…” his rumbling voice trailed off as he looked around him for an escape route.

“Oh you flatter,” Ori smiled. “But that is really lovely of you to say. I am really happy that you enjoy my writing. That is has the required ehm … effect?”

 _Shit, was this guy trying to chat him up?_ Dwalin cleared his throat. “I eh… should probably be going.” And he made a move to get up.

Ori pouted, “Oh? You haven’t even finished your coffee.” His confidence was sagging a little now. “I’m sorry that you were disappointed today. I know you were expecting something better than me. Anyway, I wish you all the best.” And he too made attempt to leave.

But Dwalin stopped. “ _Ori_ , right?” The red-head nodded. “You were not a disappointment. I eh … I’m just a little surprised and …” He sat back down again, the chair creaking in defiance under his weight. “Sorry. Don’t mean to be rude. You bought me a coffee and …” _Damn it, speak man!_ “I’m just not good at this… Words and stuff. But you are!” _Okay, don’t speak, you’re rambling!_

Ori laughed. “You are cute.”

Dwalin froze, his coffee hovering midway between the table and his mouth. “What did you say?” He narrowed his eyes. No-one called him cute!

“I said that you are cute,” Ori smiled broadly at him now. “I mean, look at you. Every bit of you screams hardman – your muscles, your shaven head, your tattoos and piercings – and yet you are a blushy stuttering sweetheart underneath all that brusk exterior.”

Dwalin wanted to defend himself, have a go at this guy who was insulting his masculinity, but when he opened his mouth no words were forthcoming.

“See,” Ori grinned, “cute.”

Dwalin folded his arms across his chest in defence, which only made him look more like a sulky teenager, rather than the tough cookie he wanted to appear as.

“So how about you and I grab a bite to eat later in the week?”

“Are you asking me out?” Dwalin’s eyes grew large.

Ori cocked his head. “That depends. If the answer is _yes_ , then yes I am.”

Well the guy had guts if nothing else. And somehow his confident approach had Dwalin agreeing to a date. 

"I think it would be best if we met somewhere out of town, don't you? Just in case. I know your friends and my family are not best buddies."

Dwalin nodded, silently cursing his tongue-tied behaviour. 

Since the big bold man didn't offer a suggestion,  Ori recommended the Argentinian restaurant near the docks. "How about Tuesday at eight? Meet you there?"

Dwalin's looked around, just checking that they were not overheard by anyone he knew. "Alright," he agreed. He took the last sip of his coffee, pulling a face at the sweet bottom layer of undissolved sugar and got up. "Thanks for the coffee," he nodded. He should probably shake hands but he didn't want the other man to feel how sweaty his palms were. So he stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded once more instead. 

"Oh, before you go," Ori called him back. He held out a wrapped parcel. "Your signed copy," he grinned . "My gift to you." He thought how handsome the big man looked when he gave him a genuine smile. 

"Thanks, that's...  really kind. S...see you Tuesday." 

And Dwalin fled the convention before he made more if a fool of himself, clutching the book to his chest like his most cherished possession.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori and Dwalin on a date, oh yes! XD

As he changed into yet another shirt, adding the previous to the pile that was already on the bed, he was beginning to get annoyed with himself. This was ridiculous. He was just going to have a pint with some guy. Alright, a pint and a meal. But it was not like it was a date. Well, not a proper date. Okay, maybe it was kind of like a date, Ori had said that he was asking him out after all. But jeeze, Ori was a guy! And he was not gay. Thorin might swing every which way there was to swing as he seemed to fuck pretty much anything that moved, but Dwalin did not. He was as straight as a straight thing, right? He sighed deeply. Right. Then why was he fretting over whether a blue or burgundy shirt looked better on him? _Stop acting like a fool_ , he growled at himself and he tucked the burgundy shirt into his jeans. This would have to do. It didn’t matter after all. He was just going to have a meal. Nothing else was going to happen.

He picked up the hardback copy of _Liberation_. He had already read it front to back twice since Saturday and was a third through reading it again. He opened the cover and read the handwritten note in Ori’s graceful script once more.

_To Dwalin_

_I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as you have enjoyed my other work. It would mean the world to me as you have been such a big fan._

_With Love,_

_X Jezebel_

Dwalin could feel himself grinning like a loon again. Even now that the secret was out, seeing the personal note that the actual author had written – and not some illiterate actress – was making him feel rather special. He carefully ran one of his big callused fingers over the swirly letters of Ori’s pseudonym. Perhaps Jezebel had not turned out to be quite the picture of his fantasies. But that did not take away the talent of the author. _Liberation_ was another masterpiece. The perfect balance between a romantic storyline and beautifully written love scenes. He was amazed at how a guy could write about such things. How he seemed to be able to effortlessly slip into the hide of a character of the opposite sex and write about her most intimate feelings. It was a skill for sure. A skill that Dwalin did not have and that he admired Ori for.

He combed his bushy moustache and his beard once more. There was grey starting to show in both now. He fretted for a moment over his ponytail, pulling the hairband out in frustration, only to put it back in again. “Enough!” he shouted out loud at his own reflection in the mirror, narrowing his eyes at himself.

And with a huff he grabbed his leather jacket and his car keys and made his way downstairs towards his car.

***

He had heard of _Constancia_ at the docks, but he had never been in there. He did not eat out in restaurants full stop. You went to restaurants with friends. And Dwalin did not have many of those. It was partly his own doing; he liked to keep himself to himself and was not a very social kind of guy. But also being best friends with Thorin Oakenshield did not help matters. As soon as people learnt how close he was to the Durins they either disappeared voluntarily or sometimes – Dwalin expected - not quite so voluntarily.

Before he even opened the door the smell of grilled meat floated into his nostrils, making his stomach rumble. It smelled damn fine and if nothing else he was going to enjoy a good meal tonight.

“Welcome, sir. Do you have a reservation?” The friendly waiter asked him, waving a menu in his face.

“I … ehm …” But his attention was drawn to Ori waving fantastically at him from his table in the right hand corner. “I am with him,” he pointed and immediately felt a blush taint his cheeks. That did not sound at all how he meant it to sound. “I mean, I have a business appointment with him.” _Yes, real smooth, Dwalin, that sounds so much better. Now you sound like a fucking gigolo._

But the waiter did not seem to take that much notice anyway. “Follow me, please” he smiled brightly. And he led Dwalin to the table where Ori was waiting for him. “Can I take your coat, sir?”

Dwalin shrugged himself out of his jacket and handed it to the waiter in exchange for the menu.

“Hey!” Ori smiled as Dwalin took his seat.

“Evening,” Dwalin grumbled in response. He regretted agreeing to this already. The square wooden table was far too small, making them sit far too close together, their knees almost touching underneath the table. And the candle and single rose in between them did not help the façade of a business meeting either. All of this felt far too much like a date already.

“How have you been?”

“Good. You?” He had not made eye contact with the red-head yet and was aware he was being rude. He glanced up from his menu straight into the sparkling eyes in front of him. _Damn, why was he feeling this nervous?_

“I have been very well, thank you. Sales have been excellent since the convention on Saturday. Getting good commission from it. Have you read _Liberation_ yet?”

Dwalin nodded. “I did.”

“And?” Ori sighed softly. If conversation was going to remain this short and difficult then this was going to be a long evening. Still, he would give it his best shot. Dwalin looked even sexier than he remembered him, the burgundy shirt bringing out the hint of red in his coarse hair. And he noticed for the first time how blue his eyes were.

“It was very good,” Dwalin shuffled uncomfortably. “Very … romantic.”

Ori gave him wide smile. “Good!” He looked at the menu in his hands, understanding that Dwalin was not quite ready yet to pursue this conversation. . “Have you been here before?”

Dwalin shook his head.

“I can really recommend the spare ribs. I know it is a little messy to eat, but god, they are amazing!”

Dwalin looked up. Ori was such an easy chatterbox. And he seemed to be enthusiastic about pretty much everything. Dwalin thought he could probably talk with interest about the soles of his shoes and get people hanging on his every word. If only he wasn’t so tongue-tied himself.

He put down his menu as the waiter came back to their table. “Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?”

“I’ll have a dry white,” Ori smiled as he looked towards Dwalin.

“A pint of whatever ale you have on.”

“I am afraid we only have bottled beers, sir. We have Becks. Fosters. Or perhaps you would like to try an Argentinian beer?”

Dwalin shrugged. “Yes, alright then.”

“Are you ready to order yet?”

Ori looked quizzingly at Dwalin. “I am, are you?”

Dwalin nodded. “The spare ribs, please.”

Ori grinned widely that his companion had taken his recommendation. He handed the menu back to the waiter. “Same here.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, two portion of onion rings.” Dwalin raised an eyebrow. “You have got to try the onion rings,” Ori smiled back at him when the waiter left to get their drinks. “They are to die for!”

They sat in awkward silence for a couple of minutes until the waiter returned with their drinks and they both accepted their glass gratefully, relieved to have something to busy their hands.

“How’s the beer?” Ori enquired.

“Tastes like piss,” Dwalin grumbled. And they both laughed.

“So what have you been up to since Saturday?”

Dwalin shrugged again. “Not much. Just work.”

“What is it you do?”

Dwalin sighed. It had not taken long for conversation to end up being about his boss. “I work for Thorin. Run a martial arts club for him. And of course I train his bareknuckle fighters.”

Ori nodded, taking a sip from his wine. “I see. How did you come to work for him?”

“Have known Thorin since we were kids. Went to the same school. We were both, well… trouble.”

“I cannot imagine you being trouble,” Ori teased.

Dwalin huffed and took another sip from the weak lager, pulling a face.

“So are you enjoying it? Working for Thorin that is.”

“It’s alright. He’s alright.” He laughed at the statement. “Well, he’s alright with me that is. I am sure your brother thinks otherwise.”

“Stepbrother,” Ori quickly corrected him.

“Right. You’re not close then?”

Ori laughed out loud. “As not close as can be. Dain is a twat.” The curse earned him a disapproving look from the woman at the table next to them. “Oops. Well, he is though. I’m only still here for Nain really. He’s not in the best of health now. And once he is gone I will be out of here. Want nothing more to do with Dain and his dirty little games.”

Dwalin looked at Ori in surprise. He had not expected that. “Where will you go?”

“Don’t know yet. Somewhere rural. As far away as I can. As well as my novels I am a freelance columnist. And I can do that from anywhere, so I am not tied down to the city.”

Dwalin considered this for a moment. If Ori moved to the countryside it was most likely that he would never see him again. And he was surprised that he felt a little anguish at that thought. Although the conversation was not flowing smoothly, he thought that Ori was a nice fella. It was good to talk to someone outside of Thorin’s inner circle for once. Someone who seemed kind and … normal. As normal as a guy writing erotica under a female pseudonym was of course.

He realised he had not said anything in response as Ori was staring at him. “I see.” _Wow, you should stand for president,_ he scolded himself. _You are so such an inspirational speaker._

“Are you okay?” Ori asked carefully.

“Huh? Yeah. Why?”

Ori shrugged his shoulders. “You just seem … I don’t know. Unhappy?”

 _Shit. Now you have upset him. Well done, Dwalin, you fucking idiot._ “No, I’m … I’m fine.” He sighed in frustration. “I’m sorry, Ori. This was really nice of you to ask me to have a meal with you. I am just not very good company. Not much of a talker.”

Suddenly Ori reached out and took his hand. Dwalin had to stop himself from pulling back his hand and making the boy eat his fist. Instead every muscle in his body tensed under the gentle touch.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ori smiled gently at him. “I am good for talking for two.” He gave Dwalin a little wink. “And they do say that opposites attract …” He wisely let go of Dwalin’s hand at that point and just sat back in his chair, taking another sip from his wine. He carefully observed Dwalin. He knew his flirting was far from subtle. But Dwalin did not seem like the kind of guy who would pick up on subtle flirting. In fact hitting him around the head with a baseball bat that said _Hey, I like you!_ might even struggle to get the point across. Dwalin just sat staring at his hand as if he had been touched by Midas and it was slowly turning to solid gold.

“Two lots of spareribs!” the overly happy waiter announced, making both of them jump up. Huge plates were placed in front of them as well as bowls with hot water with a slice of lemon floating on top. “I will bring the onion rings over. Are you okay for drinks?”

Dwalin looked at his glass, which was nearly empty despite the tasteless liquid inside it. “I’ll have a glass of red.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Ori smiled. “Got to drive back,” he nodded to Dwalin.

Dwalin nodded but did not say anything. So did he, but a glass of piss and some red wine was not going to knock him out.

“Well, enjoy!” Ori raised his cutlery in the air, before stabbing his fork into a chip.

“Yes, and you,” Dwalin rumbled, picking up a meaty bone in his large hands. This was a very bad idea, he quickly realised. Eating sticky spareribs with such bushy facial hair could only ever end in disaster. But as he looked over to his dinner companion, he actually smiled at the large saucy smears across Ori’s face.

“What?” the other asked innocently. “Oh, is there something on my face?” He grappled for the napkin.

Dwalin laughed out loud now. “More like your face is on the sauce. You’re absolutely covered in it, buddy!”

Ori quickly wiped his napkin across his mouth and cheeks and smiled a wide grin at Dwalin. “Better?”

His date nodded. “Yes. Just …” And to both their surprise he reached across and wiped the last drop of barbeque sauce from the corner of Ori’s mouth, wiping it on his serviette. He immediately blushed a bright red and sat back, staring at his plate. “Sorry, you had … ehm …”

“That’s okay,” Ori grinned.   _More than okay,_ he thought, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud, afraid that Dwalin would crawl even more back into his shell at that.

They continued their meal in relative silence, apart from the odd “This is nice” and, “Mm, these onion rings _are_ good!” “See I told you!” Once their plates were empty except for the clean stack of bones and the innerts of the corn on the cob, Ori lent back with a satisfied smile. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Yes thanks. Twas very good.”

“Want desert? They do a mean melt-in-the-middle chocolate pud.”

To his surprise Dwalin grinned widely. “That sounds good! And a coffee to go with that. You?”

Ori smiled back, “Yes please.”

When the waiter came back over to take their plates way, Dwalin immediately placed the order. “Two chocolate puddings and two black coffees please.” Ori grinned at him. “It was black for you too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, you remembered well.” _That had got to mean something right? For a guy to remember how he took his coffee._ “This was nice,” he said when the waiter had left them in peace again.

Dwalin nodded in agreement. “Yes, it was. Thanks, Ori. And sorry I am such rubbish company.”

“Not at all. You have been perfectly pleasant company.” He decided it was now or never. “Would you maybe like to do this again?” He already knew he had fallen head over heels for this guy, probably from the first moment he saw him at Dain’s fight. Dwalin was unlikely to be interested in anything more than this. But then again Dwalin had agreed to things thus far so there was a glimmer of hope still in Ori’s mind. And tonight had gone well, despite the awkward start. But he knew that he needed to keep up the momentum if he wanted to see Dwalin again. “We could maybe go somewhere of your choosing? Or to a nightclub?”

Dwalin scoffed. He was definitely too old for that shit. “Or just a drink in the pub?”

Ori smiled brightly. “That sounds like a plan. Let’s say this Friday night?”

Dwalin could not help but give a slight smile. Ori certainly was a forward kind of guy, which was surprising really when you looked at him. On the face of it he seemed quite shy, geeky almost. Yet as soon as he opened his mouth you knew straight away that he was a real extrovert. “Alright,” he found himself agreeing to a second date with this guy. _Shit, how did he do that?_

“There you go, gentlemen!” the waiter smiled brightly as he put two enormous portions of hot chocolate pudding in front of them. “Coffees are coming up.”

Dwalin was quite a big eater, but then his job was very physically intensive. Ori on the other hand was much shorter and very sleek and looked like he would be blown over in a big gust of wind. Yet he put the pudding away with remarkable ease.

“That’s impressive,” Dwalin stated when the red-head put his spoon down before him.

Ori grinned. “That was yummy,” he patted his belly in satisfaction.

***

When Dwalin opened the door to his apartment it was close to midnight. Cobweb and Gizmo looked up at him with dismay as he turned on the light in the hallway. “Alright,” he apologised to his cats. “Sorry to wake you.” He was glad that the two couldn’t talk back or he was sure he would have been quizzed where he had been all night. “None of your business,” he smiled to the two sets of sleepy eyes, turning the light back off.

He quickly brushed his teeth and took the hairband out of his ponytail, then took off his clothes but his boxers and slid himself under the duvet.

Before he drifted off the sleep he thought back to the evening he had with Ori. It had started off somewhat difficult – for which he knew he was entirely to blame – but as he had started to relax he had found Ori very pleasant company. The guy was friendly, intelligent and funny too. And he could eat for Britain!

When they had finished their meal Ori had insisted that he would settle the bill, which Dwalin had point blank refused. But Ori had folded the banknotes he had shoved across the table at him into a dainty little fan and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. In the end Dwalin had had to give in and accept that he had been taken out for dinner by the guy. He had held out his hand in thank you, but to his surprise and embarrassment Ori had thrown his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. He had stood nailed to the tarmac of the car park until he was released and then had mumbled a quick goodbye before racing to his car.

Now when he thought back to it he had the smallest glimmer of regret for running off like that.

He sighed and pushed the blanket back off himself again. In the dark he fumbled for his trousers and found his mobile.

 _Thnx for the meal._ He typed. _Had a nice time. C u Friday._ His finger hovered reluctantly over the x button. “Ah, fuck it,” he grumbled out loud. _x Dwalin_.

His heart raced as he pressed sent, immediately regretting it. He turned his phone off and slid back under the duvet, sighing deeply.  

But it took a while for sleep to come as his mind kept racing. And kept coming back to the same point every time. To the cheeky red-head who had now asked him on a second date.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about the maffia, so this is all based on research. If anything is wrong or completely unbelievable, please do leave constructive feedback. Thank you my lovely readers!

He woke up at five in the morning and immediately his hand shot out to check his phone. He was not expecting to have received a reply yet; after all surely Ori would still be asleep. Nonetheless he switched his phone back on. It was only whilst he waited for the achingly slow start up menu that he realised in what an aroused state he had awoken. With a little self-conscious embarrassment his hand slid under the duvet and inside his boxers to feel the stickiness clinging to the tip of his morning wood. He couldn't recall what he had dreamt but clearly whatever it was had his body’s approval.

He jolted as his phone beeped the notification of a text message. And again. And again and again. He looked at the display in surprise and navigated to open up the little digital envelope.

_00:01 Hey! So great to hear from you already! Had a lovely time and can't wait to see you again on Friday! Xxx Ori_

_03:12 Can't sleep! Been thinking about you for hours. Really like you!_

_03:16 Shit ignore that last message. Didn't mean to freak you out!_

_03:20 Don't ignore that I like you tho cuz I do x_

_03:48 OMG I even ramble on text! I am prob never going to hear from you again now :( I just mean you are a really great guy, ok x_

Dwalin could feel himself smile. Ori really liked him. And for all his cheeky self-confidence last night, the little red-head obviously had a bit of self-doubt about him too, sending these silly but cute little messages.

He clicked reply, but then hesitated. What was he going to reply? What did he want to reply to that? He started to type a message, then wiped it, then retyped it and then threw his phone down in frustration. Instead he busied his hand underneath the blankets until his frustration with his own confusion left his body on the bliss of his release.

As he lay back into the pillows, his heart thumping in his chest, he asked himself the same question again. What did he want to reply to Ori? The guy was hardly subtle and although Dwalin was rather thick-headed when it came to dating, even to him it was obvious that Ori was flirting with him. Dwalin had never found himself in that situation before. Women had occasionally flirted with him, but usually they were pretty drunk when they did. Dwalin just wasn’t a very approachable kind of guy. A lot of people were easily put off by his exterior image – being a tall, broad build guy, with thick muscles, a shaven head, bushy beard and ample tattoos and piercings painted a certain image and most people drew their own conclusions as to what that would mean for his character. The fact that when anyone did manage to see past that aggressive exterior then bumped straight into Dwalin’s introverted barriers did really not facilitate easy dating.  

Yet Ori had somehow managed to reach out and break through all his defences. And Dwalin admired him for that alone.

And he liked him.

That did not necessarily mean he liked him in _that_ way. But he definitely liked him as a friend.

 _06.14_ _Thanks. You too._ He finally sent a message back.

Shit, that was hardly going to impress the guy.

 _06.14_ _I mean you’re a great guy too :)_

The reply came remarkably quickly.

 _06.14_ _Yay, thank you! See you Friday then x_

He typed one more reply before he got up and had a shower. _K. Look forward to it. x D_

***

He had expected Thorin to be impossible. Not that he had any idea who Dwalin had gone out for dinner with, but he knew he had gone on a date and Dwalin was expecting a barrage of questions and teasing from his old friend.

Instead he found Thorin pacing, with a face like thunder.

“You alright?” he asked carefully.

“Do I look alright?!” Thorin spat at him and Dwalin wanted nothing more than to turn on his heels and leave again. He had a class to teach later that day and if Thorin wanted to skip his personal training session because he was chewing wasps then Dwalin would be more than happy with that. But of course Thorin was not going to let him get off that easily. The man instinctively knew how to make Dwalin feel as uncomfortable as possible – even if he did not intend to.

He was drawing hard on his cigarette which in itself was a tell-tale sign that he was stressed as he only ever smoked when he was. “Dain!” Thorin hissed as he sat down in one of the large armchairs and motioned to Dwalin that he was to do the same. “He is such a fucking cugine!”

Dwalin could not help but laugh. That was hardly news. “What’s he done now?”

“What has he not fucking done is a better question!” he narrowed his eyes at Dwalin. “Where the hell have you been anyway? Where were you last night?”

Dwalin stared back. He spent most nights at the Durins, even when he wasn’t working. He always had; they were like his family to him, the closest family he had ever had. But that did not mean he had to explain his every move to Thorin. He was not one of Thorin’s fucking foot soldiers who had to answer their whereabouts to him. Nonetheless he found himself saying, “I was out, I told you I was going to.”

Thorin lit up a new fag with the old and scowled at Dwalin. “Out where?”

“Out having a nice meal,” Dwalin replied smugly. He had expected Thorin to bite right down onto that hook, but he never did.

“He’s been fucking rum-running to the clubs in the Eriador District!” Thorin sprang to his feet, making Dwalin jump. He knew that was bad news. Thorin had always had the monopoly on the supply of the illegal untaxed alcohol in this large area of the city and it was a good earner for him. Getting Dain stepping on his toes in what he perceived to be under his reign could only lead to further trouble in the family.

“Bilbo has already tracked and clipped his runner,” Thorin declared casually, taking a sip of whiskey despite it not even being ten o’clock in the morning yet.

Dwalin cringed. He had been living alongside Dis and Thorin for long enough to understand the lingo and _clipping_ someone meant a one way ticket to hell in Thorin’s world.  Besides that was what Bilbo did. He was one of Thorin’s button-men and cleaned up for and after him.

“I have Balin trying to trace his supplier now. Thranduil better not be snuffing on me.”

Dwalin knew Balin well enough. He had been Thrain’s Consigliere and now he was the same for Dis and Thorin. The guy was ancient. He was already ancient when Dwalin had first met him, when Thorin and he were still kids. But the thing that always struck Dwalin the most was that he looked like such a nice guy – well mannered, soft tempered, quietly spoken. With Thorin you knew you were in trouble from the moment you were met by his cold blue eyes. Yet Balin was chillingly business like as he handled Dis’ and Thorin’s “business affairs” including the keeping of his hit lists.

He had never met Thranduil, but he had heard the name mentioned a million times before. He was a famous drug lord, running a very large scale cartel with plantations in the desserts of Mexico, Quatamala, El Salvador and Honduras. Thorin had always had a very good business relationship with him – and the way he talked about him Dwalin had often wondered if it was more than just business – based on equal trust and suspicion alike.

“Do you want to go down to the gym?” he asked Thorin, trying to steer the subject back to the reason why he was standing here. But Thorin made that dismissive hand movement that Dwalin always worried meant _shut the fuck up or I will make you shut up._ Dwalin sighed and sat down in one of the arm chairs. He had a feeling that even though Thorin clearly was in no mood for his morning routine, he was not yet dismissed.

Suddenly Thorin turned to him. The scowl had disappeared and in its place the playful glint had returned to his eyes. “Who were you having a nice meal with?” he asked sweetly, raising his eyebrows. It threw Dwalin for a moment. The guy was like Jekyll and Hyde. He would do well to remember that even if Thorin seemed not to listen to him, he always did. He picked up on every word and stored the information for later use. It was no surprise really. Information could mean life or death in this world of evil games.

“Just a friend,” Dwalin mumbled, cursing the blush he knew was creeping into his cheeks.

“A lady friend?” Thorin smiled brightly, seating himself back down again and casually crossing his legs.

“No,” Dwalin said, wondering which would have been the better answer, but knowing that it didn’t matter as Thorin would have found either answer amusing and a reason to tease him.

“No?” he grinned, doing the eyebrow thing again. Dwalin did not let his return stare waiver. Never lower your eyes at Thorin as he would take it as a sign of submission.

 They looked at each other for a while, weighing up. Dwalin was expecting more of an inquisition and he was preparing some story in his head. But Thorin never did. Just as quickly the switch was flicked over again and the scowl returned. “I have a meeting with Balin now. Off you go then. I might come round to see the practice tonight.”

Dwalin nodded and quickly got to his feet, not giving Thorin a chance to change this mind. He loved his best friend dearly, he really did. But when he was in a mood like this you took the offer to make a swift exit without question.

As he walked down the long hallway with the black marble floor and dark wooden panels on the walls displaying various masterpieces – real no doubt – the realisation hit him for the first time that this thing with Ori could well become a problem.  Going out with the stepbrother of his boss and friend’s greatest enemy, in the midst of a blood feud, whether it was as friends or whatever this was between them, was probably not his smartest ever move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference works : http://www.fanabala.com/
> 
> cugine = A young ambitious gangster who wants to climb the ranks of power. In this case used as a derogatory term.  
> rum-running = smuggling alcohol  
> clip = murder  
> button-man - lower-ranking maffia "soldier" (enforcer)  
> Consigliere = advisor/family counselor


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey mister Dwalin,” Fili beams as soon as he steps outside into the courtyard. “Leaving so soon?”

Dwalin automatically scans round for Kili who is normally attached to the hip with his blond brother, but the brunet is nowhere to be seen. “Thorin is busy,” he grunts a response. “He is meeting with Balin.”

“Ah yes, he is well pissed off with Dain,” Fili grins. “He is going to show that fucker the other end of his gun alright.”

Dwalin stops in his tracks as he looks at the young lad who so casually throws a death threat into the conversation. Fili is a sweet boy really, underneath all his bravado, but he is heavily influenced and prejudiced by his mother and uncle. He knows that there is no chance for either of the boys to grow up as anything else other than to step in their uncle’s footsteps. And suddenly he feels sad for the lad. That he will never be able to decide he would actually rather be a junior school teacher. Or join the army. Or become a writer, like Ori. That his future as a fighter and a mobster has already been decided for him by his family and that probably no-one has ever asked the lad what he wants. And he begins to understand why Ori wants to leave the city, leave all of this behind.

“Where is Kili?” he asks kindly.

“With some girl,” Fili sighs shuffling his feet.

That surprises Dwalin. The way that Kili behaves around his uncle and his brother he had thought his preference was quite obvious, but he appears to be as loose as Thorin. He wonders where Kili has picked up a lass from. Now he thinks about it he has never seen any visitors of the boys’ age at the mansion. And he thinks back to when he and Thorin were young. How everyone had avoided them like the plague because of their families. How they had become friends almost out of necessity, because no-one else would even consider hanging out with them.  Thorin, Frerin and Dis had all been very much in the same position then as the boys are now. Their destiny already painted out for them, their fate already set in concrete.

He looks at the blond again. Fili is officially an adult, but really he is a boy still. “You fancy grabbing a milkshake in town?” he grins at the lad, who beams back at him.

“Oh yes, I would love to!”

“Come on then,” he unlocks his car and motions Fili inside. “My treat.”

As they wait for the heavily armed guards to open the electric gates for them his phone vibrates on the dashboard, flashing up with Ori’s name. He flushes and hastily grabs the phone and puts it in his pocket. He is not sure if Fili knows the name of Dain’s stepbrother at all, but it is not worth the risk.

***

He grins as Fili slurps loudly at the huge peanut butter milkshake. The American dinner is quite busy already with people having a late breakfast and he too is tucking in to a generous plate of sausages, eggs, bread and bacon.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” he asks his blond companion again.

Fili shakes his head, making his curls bounce around.

Dwalin shrugs and shoves some more bacon into his mouth. “How are you finding the Kamas?” he asks, trying to make at least familiar conversation.

Fili’s face brightens up at that. “I love them, mister Dwalin!” he beams. “They are so frigging awesome! You think I will be able to fight in the ring with them soon?”

Dwalin considers this a moment. “Perhaps, lad.” He does not think the boys are quite ready to face a bladed opponent just yet, but he does not want to discourage Fili’s raw enthusiasm.

“When are the next fights?” Fili bounces on his chair.

“Next Friday,” Dwalin confirms. “Although I heard your uncle mention an unofficial event …”

“Oh can we have a street fight?!” Fili exclaims. “That would be fucking awesome, Dwalin!”

Dwalin cocks his head and wonders if there is anything else in the boy’s life other than fighting. Then he has an idea. “Do you like reading?” he asks casually.

Fili shrugs. “Dunno. I mean, I can read of course. Read what?”

“Anything. There are lots of good books to read.”

Fili stirs his straw around in the large cup. “Maybe,” he sighs before he slurps down the last few gulps.

“How about I bring you a book tomorrow?” Dwalin smiles. “And you can see what you think.”

“Sure,” Fili shrugs as he pushes his glass away. Then he beams again. Uncle is going take me with him to meet Argénteo! How cool is that?!”

Argenteo, the Silver one. Thranduil’s nickname. He feels something uncomfortable uncoil deep inside his stomach as he looks back at Fili and he knows the lad is on the brink of being sucked deep into a world that few enter, but even fewer ever escape.

***

Ori stares at his phone. He has been staring at it for nearly an hour now and he knows he needs to stop being silly and get on with his work. He has two more deadlines to meet and he cannot afford to waste time waiting for a reply from the tattooed man that has taken his fancy. He worries that perhaps he has been too forward. He does that a lot. Words just come out. It is sort of a defence mechanism. To cover up his nerves, his shyness. Everyone thinks he is this confident outgoing chap, but in reality he really isn’t. He just talks because that is all he knows to do in a situation where he feels nervous.

Just as he has more or less accepted that he is not going to get a reply and has put his phone down, it vibrates across the desk. He reaches for it to quickly that he accidentally knocks it off the desk and into the bin. As he fishes it back out he beams as he sees it is indeed a message form Dwalin.

_Yup same here. Thorin is in an evil mood. Trying to keep my head down. How are you?_

He had sent Dwalin a message to tell him that Dain was spitting feathers over something that Thorin had done. He had not got to the bottom of it yet, but it did not sound good. Something to do with alcohol was all he had got out of his stepbrother, before Dain had picked up his glass and thrown it against the wall, sending shards flying across the room. At that point he had left Dain and their father arguing loudly as he had sneaked out to hide in his room.

_I am good. Still in hiding. Trying to meet this deadline. Sucks. Would rather be having a coffee with you. X_

He’s done it again. He stares at the copy of his sent message, cringing at himself for sending such a message to Dwalin. But to his relief the answer this time comes rather quickly.

_In town with Thorin’s nephew at the mo. Can meet somewhere later if you want?_

He finds himself bouncing on his heels at the reply and has to restrain himself before he types the next message. _That would be nice. Maybe for lunch? xx_

So Dwalin does not want to wait until Friday either, he muses. Of course he is reading far too much into this, but nonetheless he is bubbling with excitement of seeing the big man again so soon.

***

After he has dropped Fili off home again, he pulls down the vizier to check himself over quickly. No bits of bacon stuck in his moustache, that is always a good start. He checks his watch and realises he needs to get a move on as parking in town will be an absolute nightmare.

He finds himself grinning as he waves to humourless guard. He was supposed to meet Ori again on Friday. Yet it is only Wednesday and already he is going to see him again. And he feels strangely excited at the prospect.

He spots the redhead quickly as he stands outside the coffee shop they had agreed to meet at, waving happily at him. He tentatively puts up a hand as he approaches. “Hey, you’re alright?”

“Yeah good, cheers. Glad to get out of the madhouse for a while. They were still shouting when I left. You?”

“Good. Had breakfast with Fili.”

“Oh is he one of the twins?”

Dwalin laughs. “Yeah, the blond. They are not actually twins. Fili is two years older. We just call them the twins as they are normally attached to the hip. But Kili has a girlfriend now so Fili felt a little at a loose end.”

Ori stares in surprise at Dwalin who he has never heard say so many words in one go before.

“What?” Dwalin asks, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Ori grins. “Like it when you talk. What do you want then?”

“I’m buying,” Dwalin argues. “You paid last night.”

“Alright, in that case I will have a large black coffee, a steak and cheese panini and a chocolate chip muffin for afters please.”

“How the hell are you so skinny?”

Ori shrugs, smiling. “Dunno. Must be all the working out I do,” he jokes as he mockingly tenses his biceps.

Dwalin grins. “Indeed.” And he watches Ori take a seat in the corner as he waits in the queue to be served.

As he walks over to the table with the coffees and muffins and a table number for their paninis, Ori waves his phone at him. “Wanted to show you this and get you opinion on it. It’s some artwork for my new novel.”

 “You really want my opinion?” Dwalin asks in surprise.

“Yeah of course!” Ori beams. “You are my biggest fan and besides, I care about what you think.”

Dwalin feels himself swell with pride as he stares at the picture.

“So what do you think?”

“Yeah it’s … good,” Dwalin says carefully. “What is the story about?”

“You hate it,” Ori laughs.

“No, I don’t hate it,” Dwalin says quickly. “It’s just …”

“Just say you hate it.”

“Okay, I hate it,” he laughs.

“Good, because I did not like it either,” Ori smiles. “But Gandalf was trying to convince me it is exactly what the readers want. Now I can tell him to find me a different illustrator. Thank you, bud.”

Dwalin smiles, “Glad to be of service.”

“I am glad you wanted to meet up today. I wasn’t fishing or anything. Well, maybe just a little,” he winks. “But I did have a really nice time last night.”

“Me too,” Dwalin admits.

“So what are you up to today? You are clearly not at work.”

Dwalin sighs. “No, I went to see the boss this morning. I am his personal trainer, you see. But he was all caught up with this business with your step-brother. I left him to it.” He has learnt well enough not to mention any names in conversation in public. “Got an afterschool martial arts class at ten to five tonight. And am supposed to be training a couple of the guys tonight. For next week’s event.” He nods to the waiter who places their sandwiches in front of them. “How about you?” he asks as he takes a bite.

“Just gotta meet the deadline for this column,” Ori sighs. “It’s supposed to be about the new recycling plant. Boooooring!”

Dwalin laughs. “Say ehm Ori …” he begins, stirring his coffee vigorously, “I’m having a nice time and all. I was just wondering .. What are y’expecting from this?” He had been going over and over this particular question in his head and it has still come out rubbish! “Us, I mean. Like what …”

Ori stops his rambling with a brief touch against his hand. “I am not expecting anything,” he says smiling. “Other than just make a new friend.” He laughs. “That sounds like I have dozens but as I am sure you know it is not that easy.”

Dwalin nods, knowing all too well.

“Look, I’ll be honest. I am sure you have worked out already that I am gay. And I do find you attractive. But that doesn’t mean that we cannot just be friends. You don’t have to worry if you don’t feel that way about me. I don’t go round groping blokes that I like. I hope we can still be friends.”

Dwalin looks at him, unsure what to say.

Ori sighs. “Then again, if you don’t then please just say.”

“No,” Dwalin stops him. “Of course we can be friends.” And knows his cheeks are boiling as he tries to find his courage. He picks nervously at the chocolate chips in the muffin. “And I eh … I never said that I did not feel that way. It’s just … I never …”

Ori patiently waits for Dwalin to finish that sentence, but when he doesn’t he tries to finish it for him. “You never been with a guy?”

“I really don’t think I am gay,” Dwalin whispers, not able to look at Ori. “But … well … I do like your company.”

Ori smiles. “How about we just enjoy each other’s company for a while then? We still got our pub date on Friday. And I’ll assume we will stay friends unless you tell me otherwise?”

“Alright,” Dwalin agrees, relieved.

“But ehm … if you do decide you like me that way … just know I do too,” Ori adds cheekily. “The ball’s in your court now.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, delorita, for helping me over my writer's block and continuing this story with me!

“Thorin, what a pleasure to see you again,” the silver-blonde man says, the fake smile on his handsome features very obvious. He hands his opponent a crystal glass with the most expensive champagne there is.

Thorin takes the offer gracefully but remains standing with his back to the wall and his eyes firmly on the handsome man. It's habit as much as necessity to keep himself guarded and his escape routes open. This meeting may seem amicable enough, but the two men with machine guns patrolling in line of sight are an obvious reminder of whose rules they are playing by here. “Whether it's pleasuref depends entirely on how this conversation goes,” he says in a polite tone that doesn't match the words.

“What is your offer then, to my flawless product?” Thranduil Greenleaf raises his bushy dark eyebrows, staring down on the slightly shorter man. He likes to do business with Thorin Oakenshield. The man has guts and knows what he wants. The thrill of danger always looms around him. The blonde druglord favours a bit of arguing for prizes instead of his business partners just agreeing as some of the upcoming ones do.

Thorin smirks, briefly wondering what _flawless product_ the perfect specimen of a man is offering him today. But he shakes his head. “I'm not buying today. But I am here with a business proposal. My eldest nephew, Fili, he needs some exposure. You mentioned these cars the other day. I might be interested, but Fili will handle the deal. “

Thranduil sips his pearly liquid slowly, “Has he grown enough now to step into your  footsteps?” he asks teasingly.

“He's the same age as your kid,” Thorin throws back. “It would be a good opportunity for both to show what they're made of.”

“Alright,” Thranduil finds himself agreeing a bit too quickly but Thorin has a point here. “Let them play,” he raises his glass.

“Excellent,” the mafia boss smiles, clinking his glass before taking a large sip from the fine champagne. “When is the consignment due? Send me the details via the usual method and I'll make sure he's there to take receipt with a couple of my wiseguys.”

“Sunday,” the druglord answers.

“We're getting old, Thorin,” he muses after a few moments, “letting our juniors out in the field.” He's sure he has prepared Legolas well. But he doesn't like to share his empire. And he also doesn't like to become grey, as good as it looks on Thorin. He secretly admires the mysterious look it gives him.

Thorin snorts. “Speak for yourself, Argenteo,” he jests. “There's life in me yet. Still, you know how things are in our line of work. One must have a backup. I've not forgotten what happened to my father. And I'm not letting anyone else get his hands on my business. Which brings me to my second proposal. I'm after some information. Something you might be able to help with.”

“Information?” Thranduil considers this, swirling the tiny sip of expensive alcohol around in his mouth, scanning the handsome dark haired man from head to toe. “Now _that depends,_ on how delicate that piece of information would be for me.”

Thorin smiles and runs his thumb across his bottom lip. “Mio cugino,” he gets straight to the point of his issue, knowing that his business partner understands the intricacies of his family relations well enough. “He's treading on my turf. I need to send a message. Perhaps you can help me out here?” He is careful to choose his words and makes sure to make no allegations; not yet at least. These connections are delicate and it's easy to offend the other man.

Thranduil sits down deliberately slowly on the large, white leather sofa that decorates the big veranda. He stretches his long legs out in front of him. “Dain,” he contemplates out loud, crinkling his nose, “I do not like his rude manners.” He doesn’t say more yet, observing Thorin’s body language as he empties his glass.

Thorin tries to work out if that's a generic statement or whether the other refers to a recent incident, which would indicate that there had been an exchange of some sort between the two. He decides to give the Capo the benefit of the doubt for now and finally sits himself down too, leaning forward to establish a connection. “He's a jamook. Not worth your time, Argenteo,” he flatters, winking. “I'll clean it up. So you haven't heard about it, in this thing of yours?”

“In fact I have,” the American kingpin replies, looking at Thorin sideways. “It came to my ears just yesterday with some other interesting detail,” he can’t help the twitch of the corner of his mouth as he sees a frown appear on the other man’s forehead.

“I'm interested,” Thorin agrees to negotiate. “Name your price.”

Thranduil’s smirk widens. He deliberately hesitates before putting his glass on the coffee table in front of them. As he leans back again, the back of his hand brushes against Thorin’s thigh as if accidentally. “I happen to have a bit of time on my hands,” he turns to look at Thorin more fully. “How about we don’t exchange money for that information but something else?”

Ever since Thranduil had laid eyes on the dark haired Mob prince, he feels his gut stir in pleasant anticipation whenever they meet. They do not indulge in the pleasures of the flesh a lot, but when they do it’s always a remarkable experience.

The dark-haired man keeps his face in perfect stoic expression as he makes a show of checking his Rolex. The game is not to be too keen, too eager, even though his cock stirs at the proposal. He had hoped for the handsome supplier to make him such an offer and the thought of coming away with both the information he needs and a good shag is shifting his mood into a much happier place. “I think I can accommodate that,” he smiles cordially, but he reaches out to caress Thranduil’s knee to tempt him into giving in first.

Thranduil moves his leg just a fraction into Thorin's direction. The slight touch sends sparks right to his groin but he likes to drag out this game. “Before we go down to business,” his long fingers wander up the inside of Thorin's thigh very unsubtly, “I’d like for you to try my latest harvest.” He snaps his fingers and a young man appears, carrying a tray with a small black box.

Thorin smiles a dark smile as the servant lays out the paraphenalia. “With pleasure,” he accepts the offer as he watches his host draw a couple of lines. Argenteo’s coke is the finest snow he's ever had which is why he has been a loyal customer of this man for many years, as much for business as for personal pleasure. He leans forward to take the straw he's offered.

Thranduil feels the fine stuff almost immediately take hold of his whole body and brain. He appreciates the powerful, ecstatic energy that surges through him, highlighting all of his senses at once. As he watches Thorin inhaling the exquisite white powder, he can't keep his hands to himself anymore, running them beneath the other’s needle striped suit jacket.

Thorin inhales deeply, allowing his senses to absorb the tingle in the back of his throat, the numbness in his nostrils and the buzz that is starting in his brain and trails down his spine. “Fuck, Thranduil,” he hisses as his arousal pulses between his legs at the possessive claim the other lays on him. There are few that equal him like that and it's what excites him about the handsome druglord. But he's aware that other eyes are still on them and whilst he's not adverse to a public display of his choosing, he's not prepared to whore himself out in front of Thranduil’s soldiers. “How about we take this to your private room, hm?” he suggests before they lose their common sense and restraint any further. “I'll remind you why you enjoy doing business with me.”

+++

“Where’s Thorin?” Dwalin asks Dis as he arrives at the mansion later that evening. After his class he had decided to check up on his friend. He knew that Thorin could look after himself, but something about the exchange that morning had left him feeling unsettled. Not that there was anything remarkable or unusual about Thorin throwing a paddy or at him hinting at turf wars and retribution. But whereas Dwalin normally tries to keep his nose out of that side of Thorin's life, this time he is keen to try and convince his friend not to engage in another feud with Dain. And he knows that in truth it's because he does not want things to become more complicated with Ori than they already are.

“Still out for business,” the Lady of the house answers, as she takes off the headphones she had been wearing for her evening run. “Why?” she asks, still a little breathless.

 _Business…_ Again a phrase that normally makes the big man change subjects rather quickly. Now though he presses for more. “I er I need to speak to him about something. It's somewhat urgent. Do you know where he has gone?” he dares. He tries his best not to look too obviously at Dis’ fine shape clad in tight lycra, instead looking unnecessarily at his watch.

“I'm sorry D, but he doesn't always tell me where he's going.” Dis wonders what might be so urgent that it can't wait until morning.

“He's with Argenteo,” Fili says excitedly as he comes sprinting down the stairs. “Evening, coach,” he fist bumps Dwalin, secretly hoping for another lesson with the kamas.

Dwalin ruffles Fili's hair and is pleased to find Kili following close behind this time. It had felt strangely unnatural to see the two of them not together earlier. “Argenteo? Wasn't he taking you to see him?”

“Hey D!” Kili jumps the last few steps and slaps him across the shoulders in a way that reminds Dwalin so much of Thorin he blinks for a moment. But Kili is already gone, kissing his mum on the cheek before helping himself to some of the sweets that are on the table.

“Yeah, that's what he's talking to him about,” Fili nods enthusiastically as he follows his brother's lead. “About a job for me. Exciting, right?!”

“And he wanted to be alone with his boyfriend,” Kili grins a chocolatey grin at Dwalin, but he's quickly reprimanded by Dis with a clip around the ears. “Ouch!”

Fili makes an unmistakable gesture behind Dis’ back to which both brothers break into hysterical laughter. Kili plasters himself with his front against Fili's back, dry humping him. Their childish sniggering is clearly proof they have just taken something and are high on it.

Dwalin rolls his eyes but sits himself down at the table. For a fraction of a second the most ridiculous thought presents itself as he wonders whether he could possibly ask Thorin about his predicament since the other clearly makes no secret of the fact that he likes to screw with guys - whether the boys are right or just mocking about, Dwalin knows too well that at least that part is true. But he just as quickly dismisses that idea. Even if he was silent about _who_ had captured his interest, the idea of indulging his friend with such a personal question… He shakes his head to himself and turns his attention to Kili, helping himself to a sweet too, wondering how long he can wait for Thorin to come back. “Fili tells me you are sweet on someone too,” he throws the rolled up wrapper at the dark haired boy.

Kili catches the tiny paper ball between his fingers, “Other than my brother?” he kisses Fili on his cheek.

Dis shakes her head, waves to Dwalin, smiles fondly at her sons and excuses herself to take a shower.

Fili's heart leaps in his chest at his brother's words but he knows Kili is still dating that damn girl. If not for his private kama lessons, he'd go completely bonkers. He feels like a limb is torn from him when  Kili is not with him. The audience for their fights call them The Twins but he truly feels like one.

“Other than your brother,” Dwalin sighs, unaware of the turmoil his questions are causing the older brother. “Aren't you seeing a girl?” _Like normal guys,_ he cringes as his internalised homophobia screams at him.

“Oh her!” Kili cards his fingers through his hair, feeling caught out. “Well, she's nice,” he grins a broad grin at Dwalin. “Met her in hospital when my collarbone was broken,”  he stuffs more sweets into his mouth. “She's training to be a doctor,” he says proudly.

“Blimey,” Dwalin says with genuine surprise. He wants to ask if this girl has any idea who Kili is or rather who his uncle is, but he knows that is not his place to ask. “Well, she sounds nice,” he grumbles and pushes back his chair, guessing that Thorin might not resurface for a while. “Can you let your uncle know I came by,” he asks of both as he makes his way to the door.

“Course, coach,” Kili chirps happily.

Fili decides against asking for private lessons tonight since Kili is all over him at the moment and he bathes in that attention. “We will, good night, coach.” He lets his hand slide over Kili's arse as he’s standing so close.

“Good night, boys,” Dwalin quickly turns away as the twins are already falling into their usual inappropriate displays of affection, seemingly regardless of _the girlfriend._ “Don't forget training tomorrow,” he calls behind him as marches towards his car.

+++

_I can’t tear my eyes away from the bulging biceps of my new friend. He invited me for lunch and I am supposed to do polite conversation, but all I can think about is to run my fingers over the material of his well fitting shirt, feeling his enormous muscles underneath._

_Every time he looks at me with his piercing blue eyes I feel a shiver run down my spine and I cannot concentrate on whatever I ordered. I wonder how those nicely shaped lips beneath that bushy beard feel when we share our first kiss._

Ori stops his frantic typing to stare into nothingness, day dreaming. He had set out to try out a new style for his first gay novel but now he finds himself writing down his very own thoughts.

_I’m mesmerized by the impressive man. His appearance, his body language, the way he speaks - when he does. I want to fall asleep in his strong arms. But if I tell him that I am afraid it might send him running._

+++

Thorin appears from the shower with a towel slung across his waist, his black hair dripping down his back. He grins at the man he'd given a real good pounding just before, stretched across the large bed in all his glory still. Although the sight begs for another round, Thorin has things to do and besides he hasn't yet received his side of the bargain. So he lets his towel drop to the floor and grabs for his trousers.

“Give me a name,” he gets back to business as he starts to get dressed, keeping his eyes pierced on his satisfied lover.

Thranduil scans the gorgeous, dangerous man, mapping out his every muscle with his eyes.  He hides his admiration well behind a sly grin of his own. He takes a few sips of his champagne, almost feeling the tension that radiates from Thorin.

“There’s a new player,” he runs his fingers down his flat stomach, into the puddle of his own drying semen. “His name is Elrond Peredhil.”

Thorin watches that teasing finger as he buttons up his expensive shirt. “I've heard of that name,” he says, feeling a little regretful that he has to leave as Thranduil teases him so blatantly. But he pulls himself to order. Business always comes before pleasure. “I take it just water, no snow or you would have taken care of it yourself.”

“He’s a little fish,” the blonde man crosses his arms leisurely behind his head, “Nothing you and I have to worry about yet.” He glances at the Italian American from under his lashes. _He’s such a perfect fuck._ He hates to admit to himself that he wants the other to stay for round two since he has a bit of time on his hands.

“Little fish or no,” Thorin frowns as he straightens his neat jacket and then pulls his hair into a ponytail, “kid should have done his homework and not get involved with my cousin,” he snarls. “Pissing on my patch. I'll get it sorted.” He puts his charming smile back on and kneels down on the bed, dragging his hand playfully through Thranduil's sweaty locks as he moves his lips real close to the other. “And the _interesting detail_?” he purrs, not having forgotten the addition.

“Your other boy, Kili, well, I do believe he’s dating that little fish’s daughter,” he just says dryly, staring into those cold but mesmerizing blue eyes, waiting for the outburst to hit. “Not that I care, but you might want to take that into consideration. Or use it to your advantage… “

Thorin freezes as a darkness slowly forms, shifting, taking shape like a thunderstorm “Excuse me?” he presses out, trying to remember that Thranduil is every bit as volatile and lethal as he is and that regardless of the fact that he's just fucked the other into oblivion, his host would blow his brains out if he oversteps the invisible boundaries. So he keeps the sweet smile on his face, now contrasted by the storm that brews behind his eyes as he pushes himself off the bed. “Kili isn't seeing anyone,” he says stubbornly. “He has no interest in any girl.” He packs his handgun back into its holster as he stares back hard at Thranduil.

“I guess as much as you have no interest in other men,” Thranduil is amused at the way Thorin tries to hide his rage. “Good day then, Mister Oakenshield,” he mocks playfully. He reaches for his cigarettes and lights one casually, blowing a perfect O in Thorin's direction.

Thorin doesn't like it that he's lost his cool in front if the other man, lifting far too much of the veil around his family. But the suggestion that his nephew is not only dating some stranger without his permission, but rather his fancy is the daughter of some bootlegger supplying that pucchiacha of a cousin of his…

He slowly puts his golden watch back on, trying to regain his composure. “È stato un piacere,” he smiles his pearly whites at the still naked man. “We must do it again some time.” He grabs the snuff box on the night stand and throws it towards his host, reminding him he's still a customer. “I like it. I'll take ten G to try it out. I'll get my man to see your guy.”

With that he is satisfied that he's got everything he needs and he leaves the house to be taken back to his place to have a frank conversation with his boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mio cugino - my cousin


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin teaches Kili a lesson he will not forget ;) Sorry, but as this is my OTP ... Enjoy!

“Get me Kili,” Thorin orders his sister as he strides past her and into his office. “Alone.” He shuts the door behind him and grabs his smokes, trying to find his calm before his nephew appears.

“Yes, uncle,” Kili strides into the room a couple of minutes later, trying to show confidence he doesn't have. The fact that Thorin wants to see him alone is enough to make his stomach churn an uneasy way.

“Close the door.”

Kili does as he’s he is told, but stays standing close by the exit nonetheless.

Thorin is sat in his black leather arm chair with his feet resting on the corner of his desk as he drags slowly on his smoke. He doesn't look at Kili as his nephew stands by the door as he knows it will inflame him even more.

“You have something to tell me,” he says coolly in a tone that's definitely not a question.

“I err,” Kili frowns, feverishly thinking about what Thorin may mean. _Tauriel? How would he know?_ But then, uncle Thorin knows everything. _Why did I think I could keep this a secret?_ “That I’ve got a girlfriend?”

Thorin slowly looks up. He moves his feet off the desk and stubs out his cigarette before folding his hands together. “Sit down,” he nods to the empty chair on the other side of his desk.

The teen swallows but obeys. Normally he's got his uncle twirled around his little finger. But not when he is like this. Never when he is like this. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, what a stupid idea to not have told him._ He nervously starts to chew his nails, looking down on the flawless, black, shiny surface of the furniture.

“Tell me about this _fanciulla_ then,” Thorin says sweetly, holding his pack of cigarettes out to his nephew. “Who is she? Where did you meet her? Who's her _papà_?”

Kili stares at the smokes. _Is he not mad at me?_ He dares to look into his beloved uncle's handsome face when he takes the offered cigarette. But it's a mask. He can't see any expression in it.

“Her name is Tauriel. I met her in hospital when I broke my collarbone,” he says truthfully. Normally Thorin would light his smoke and they'd glance into each other's eyes deeply. Kili would get tingles in his groin that only his brother would be able to satisfy. And sometimes Kili has the feeling their uncle is watching them then. He’s never sure, but it turns him on like crazy. This time though, the eyes are cold and commanding. “I don't know who her father is,” he murmurs, still trying to gauge the authoritative man's mood, fiddling with his unlit smoke.

“No.” Thorin reaches for his silver lighter and holds the flame up to his nephew. “You don't know who her father is.” He lets the lid of the lighter snap back down and stares at Kili for a long while, caressing that handsome young face with his greedy eyes. “I thought you knew better than that, Kili,” he allows his anger to show in the form of a deeply disappointed tone. “You surely have not forgotten who you are. And the rules of engagement we agreed.”

“I'm sorry,” Kili whispers, dragging on his smoke, “I...I thought…” Thorin's disappointed voice hurts him more than an outburst of rage. “I didn't think that…” he stammers and trails off, knowing he actually didn't really think at all, rather just got carried away with these new feelings of fancying a girl.  

Thorin drags himself to his feet. He hates doing this. He hates seeing Kili unsure of himself and looking at him with trepidation. But in this world his beloved nephew's reckless behaviour can attract far more than his jealousy.

He slowly walks around his desk and steps behind the young man. He allows his fingers to play with Kili’s wild curls as he rests his other hand on his shoulder. “Your girl's papà,“ he says slowly, “is bootlegging for Dain,” he drops the bombshell, watching Kili's reaction carefully.

“What?!?” Kili's head snaps around like in a fight when his instincts feel a sudden opponent behind him. “I...Uncle, no!” he turns around more, trying to get up, but he is trapped between Thorin and the desk. “She's a student! She's going to be a doctor! He can't...She can't...No!” He pales, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, shaking his head.

Thorin sighs and draws in a long slow breath, before he spins Kili's chair around. He takes the barely smoked cigarette and puts it out again before he straddles the arms of the chair with his hands, bringing his face very close to his nephew's. “You've been careless,” he grinds his teeth. “And you've made me look like a fool in front of my peers. How do you think I felt when I had to learn about your fancy from my supplier, hm?” He wants to shout it in Kili's face, but he knows the coldness in his eyes will hit home harder than his anger.

 _Fuck and double fuck._ Kili feels captured. He stares right back at his uncle because there is nothing else he can do. “How can I make it up to you?” he asks softly, not knowing what else to say. He hates feeling Thorin's wrath on him. He loves it when his uncle beams with pride when he did something right and the thought that he's disappointed him kills him.

Thorin feels his irritation melt away as Kili throws him puppy eyes. “Kili,” he says softly too and he caresses that beautiful face tenderly with the back of his fingers, “you know I only want the very best for you. You will come to me next time there is someone, won't you?” His fingers trail along Kili's cheek, across his rough stubble that is starting to appear more now. “So that I may make sure she's a suitable _comare_.”

Kili nods enthusiastically, no words forthcoming at the tender gesture.

“Good,” Thorin smiles. He brushes his finger across Kili's bottom lip now, the remnants of Thranduil's fine product and the excitement of their heated transaction at the man's house still burning low in his belly. “I want you to remember who loves you more than anything, Kili. Remember your Familia. Is your brother not good to you?”

Kili has a hard time to not lick that finger. He looks up at the older man, blinking, “I...Fili is very good to me…” Thorin's breath so close makes the hairs on his neck stand up, and not in fear anymore. “I love my Familia,” he dares to say, his glance not wavering as he sees the cold disappear out of his uncle's eyes. He's not brave enough to move a finger though, to do what he actually yearns to do.

“Yes,” Thorin croaks as he pulls Kili to his feet. He brushes his lips very softly against Kili's as he whispers, “I love you so much, Kili.” He lets his hands slide to the back of Kili's neck, burying them in those lush curls as he stares intently at his nephew. “Let me show you how very much.” He'd thrown him enough hints over the passing months and Kili had been keen to respond to them. But he'd never crossed that boundary before, no matter what Dwalin accused him of.

Again, the words are stuck in the young man's throat and he only nods. He can't believe that what he thought would be a major tantrum turns into...What? His uncle proposing that they actually do it with each other, right here? He swallows thickly but then finds his courage. He knows his uncle will not be turned on by him acting all unsure and so he lifts his hands and frames his uncle's face with them. “Please show me, zio. I wanna show you too.” He brushes his lips across the other's just as gently, his tummy fluttering in excitement now.

Thorin pulls Kili in close. The lad is just as tall as he is now and as he presses their bodies flush he feels how aroused his nephew is already. He pushes those lush lips apart with his demanding tongue and probes Kili's hot mouth eagerly. His hands roam everywhere, claiming his blood as his to have.

“Thorin,” Kili murmurs between kisses. He can't believe his luck. He doesn't close his eyes as he normally does when his brother spoils him. He wants to see all of his sexy uncle. At first he's hesitant to touch him. But they have caressed each other before and so he slides his hands onto Thorin's chest, beneath his suit jacket. He's so much broader than his brother still. He sighs in bliss as they rub their groins together. _So hard for me!_ Kili thinks proudly.

Thorin swipes the papers on his desk to the side. He takes off his jacket and puts it over the back of the chair before taking Kili in his arms again. He kisses Kili hard before he begins to unbutton his shirt. “You are beautiful, Kili,” he praises, letting his lips caress Kili's now healed collarbone on purpose, showing him he can take care of him too.

“You’re super hot, mio zio,” Kili gasps, wanting to give back the praise. He mirrors his uncle’s action, slowly revealing patches of skin. “Hmm,” he dares to lean forward and kiss the nude flesh. Fili and him sometimes fantasise about their hot father figure and now he’s able to actually do what they dreamt of. _Maybe I AM dreaming?_

Kili's ministrations on his hyper sensitised skin send bolts of pure arousal to his prick. Thorin gives up on tender and taking their time as he lifts Kili up and deposits him onto his desk. He yanks at his own belt and lets his trousers drop to the floor, kicking them and his shoes out of the way. He pulls his nephew's trousers down too with a little help from his eager relative. He loves the feeling of the youngster’s legs wrapping around him, pulling him close unmistakably, their weapons crushed together. He can but grunt as he kisses and bites and licks every bit of flesh his mouth can find.

 _Definitely NOT dreaming._ Kili loves the fact that Thorin goes right down to business. He’s very eager to show him his own hunger. For months it  built and built, the teasing, the glances, the stroking and stealing kisses. Now he has the man of his desires between his legs and for the very first time wraps his fingers around his elder’s weapon, weighing it, comparing it to Fili’s. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, uncle,” it just slips out of his mouth as he looks up into those handsome features.

Thorin grins, his upset not forgotten but at least for now pushed to the back of his mind. He moulds Kili's firm muscular thighs with his large hands, rocking himself into that fist that already makes him leak in anticipation.

Kili wraps his legs even tighter around that well trained body, “Fuck me, uncle,” he begs unashamedly, grinning up at the other wickedly. “I’ve been waiting for you to do it. I crave your cock,” he massages it as he says so. His own dick throbbing, his hole fluttering in expectation.  

The older man pulls open the drawer of his desk and grabs the tube of lubricant he keeps in there next to his Colt. He slathers Kili's fingers in the slippery substance so that he can rub him into readiness. Those sleek but strong hands on his member make him tremble with raw desire.

A moment later he drags Kili right to the edge of the desk and sinks himself into that beautifully horny body, moaning against Kili's shoulder as his nephew pulls him in slowly.

Kili groans loudly as he feels his uncle’s manhood press into him for the very first time. It’s different to Fili. Somehow stronger. Delicious. Perfect. He grabs for Thorin's head and devours him with a demanding kiss of his own, working his inner muscles, showing him what he’s learned already. Normally he’s submissive to his father figure but he gets the feeling that he also wants to see his fighter skills in this. And it turns him on like nothing else.

“Hmm, that's it, my beautiful _giovanetto_ ,” Thorin purrs into Kili's ear. He sticks out his tongue and probes the shell in the same leisurely rhythm he is fucking his cock between Kili's cheeks.

“Scopami più forte!” Kili repeats in the language of his ancestors he knows Thorin loves. He makes him gasp and writhe beneath him. He’s such a skilled lover. He knows exactly where his super sensitive spot is. It’s like he's got many more even. Like his whole channel is one erogenous zone.

“Lift me up,” he begs, wanting to see Thorin’s true strength.

Thorin complies with the demand. He pulls Kili as close as possible, hitting him deep inside as he wraps the younger man's arms around his neck and his legs firmly around his waist. They struggle for a moment to find the right balance, but then he shifts his hands under those delicious buttocks, allowing him to bounce his nephew up and down his length at a slowly increasing pace that makes the sweat roll down both their bodies.

“Fuckfuckfuckfckkkkk,” Kili throws his head back at the unexpected new angle. “That’s IT!” Thorin manages to go further inside than Fili had ever been. _This might become my new favourite position,_ he thinks somewhere in his lust addled brain, “Sss...so good so good,” he stammers, holding onto Thorin’s bulging biceps. He licks his lips repeatedly as he looks at his uncle again, admiring the lustful concentration on his face.  

“Shoot for me,” Thorin growls against Kili's lips. He turns the both of them around and takes two steps forward. He presses Kili with his back against the wall and ruts even more vigorously into his pulsing channel. Now that he has Kili up against the wall he has his hands free and whilst he steadies them with his left hand, with his right he gives Kili pleasure with long firm strokes.

“Thorin!” Kili shouts loudly as those nimble, skilled fingers help him over the edge and into the abyss. He comes and comes. Creamy streaks decorating his uncle’s working abs. He absorbs his sweaty, sexy features and body. He’s never seen him like this.  The way he holds him up and still manages to pull the best climax ever out of him. He gives his best to reciprocate in squeezing his rod as best he can inside of him, holding onto the other’s shoulders firmly.

Thorin drops all of his restraint as hot splashes of cum run down his skin. He doesn't care that the framed photos and certificates are threatening to come off the wall as he pounds his nephew into orbit. With both hands flat against the wall now he comes with shuddering moans.

His hair has fallen out of its casual ponytail in the midst of their rough intercourse and falls in curtains around both of their faces as he presses their foreheads together. It takes a long few moments of panting and drowsy kisses whilst their climaxing peaks subside before Thorin allows Kili back onto his feet.

Kili isn’t sure if he can stand unaided. His heart's still pounding in his ears and the adrenaline rush is even higher than after a good fight. He feels well and truly fucked and wonders what Thorin’s trick is; to look not as bulky as Dwalin but still be just as strong. “Can I have your training schedule?” he asks half jokingly half seriously, caressing that handsome face, still not really believing what they just did.

Thorin snorts. He gives Kili one final lingering kiss before he turns around and grabs a tissue to wipe the semen off his torso. He grins at his nephew. “Blood before girls?” he winks playfully, showing Kili a side of him so few get to see.

Kili’s heartbeat, which had just slowed down to its normal pace, speeds up a bit more again at the light mood Thorin is in now. “Definitely,” he reaches out to caress his uncle’s nicely trimmed beard, feeling that something enormous has shifted between them. He suddenly finds himself asking a silly question, “Am… am I forgiven now?”

“Good night, Kili,” Thorin says as he hands his nephew his trousers and shirt without offering absolution. “Remember our conversation,” he reminds the youngster instead. He walks up to the other door to the side of the room and grabs his cashmere dressing gown. “I will see you at breakfast. Kiss your brother goodnight from me too,” he winks. Without waiting for a reply he disappears into his private rooms that lie at the back of the house.

Kili stands, rooted to the spot for a few more moments. A broad grin forming on his face. _Our uncle fucked me._ He slowly puts on his trousers, stuffing his boxers into his pocket. _Thorin Oakenshield gave me the honour of putting his gorgeous dick up my arse._ He throws his shirt carelessly across his shoulder. _Fili, you’re so in for a great night._ He runs up the stairs to their rooms, singing loudly. The _girlfriend_ that actually started all this, forgotten. For now at least.

+++

Dis smirks, glad her men did not clash the way she’d expected them to when Thorin had first come in this evening, his face a ticking bomb. The explosion was loud for sure - but in a good way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fanciulla - girl  
> papà - daddy  
> bootlegging - selling illegal alcohol  
> comare - in mafia speak this means girlfriend or mistress  
> giovanetto - a young man  
> Scopami più forte! - fuck me harder!


	14. Chapter 14

**Thursday morning**

Thorin is in a particularly good mood when he appears at breakfast the following morning. He's still spitting feathers over the business with Dain and Elrond and the added complication of his foolish nephew apparently dating that guy's kid. But after securing a new order of fine coke, the scheduled deal for Fili and two really good fucks - one that still has his balls tingling - he whistles as he picks up the papers, turning to the stocks. As usual he's first at the table and he thanks his housekeeper as she pours him his strong coffee, waiting for the rest of the family to appear.

“Morninnnggg,” Kili and Fili kind of wrestle each other into the large super modern kitchen.

Fili got filled by his brother in on the happenings of the evening in every glorious detail and their night hadn’t been filled with much sleep. They burst with energy anyway. Both are not really sure how to approach their uncle now though. They had made plans and played the scenarios but with no success. In the end they decided to just not do anything different but greet him both with a kiss on his cheek on either side of him simultaneously.

Dis smiles at the scene from the stairs and decides to go for a morning run first, leaving her men to themselves for a while longer.

“Morning boys,” Thorin grins. He lowers his paper to catch Kili's gaze. There is a spark between them as their eyes lock. “Did you sleep well?” he enquiries teasingly. 

Kili hates it, but he feels his cheek colour like that of a little girl. He nods and bends down again though, boldly brushing his lips against Thorin’s before jumping away and sitting down quickly, not sure of this will endear or anger his uncle.

Fili watches the exchange. He had relished in Kili's tales the previous night of how their uncle had finally made good on his endless teasing of his little brother. And high on the excitement and aroused by the fantasy come true, Kili had kept the two of them going for hours. Now though he feels a little pushed to the side - again. And so he clears his throat and takes his seat beside his uncle. He doesn't dare bring up what happened, but he does have the guts to ask what he didn't get a chance to ask last night. “Did you ask Argenteo about the deal, uncle?”

Thorin smiles at Fili and caresses his cheek briefly. “I did. Sunday. He's sending over the encrypted files of the exact time and location. You're to meet with his son to hand over the cash. I've got a few drivers lined up. We can talk through the details later. Are you excited?”

“Yes!” Fili high fives Kili across the table. “My first job!” He turns towards Thorin, “Thank you uncle. I am not going to disappoint you,” he says determinedly. If Kili gets all the feels, he will make sure to get the work done to their uncle’s satisfaction and earns his acknowledgement that way.  

Thorin smiles at Fili in appreciation and then throws Kili a stern look to remind him that he is still treading a very fine line in that department. He folds his paper and sips his coffee. “Are you training this morning?”

“Yes!” The Twins answer in unison. “We want to become your best fighters, zio,” they say determinedly.

“You already are in your league,” Thorin says proudly. “There will be some opportunities with the fights next Friday. I'll talk to Dwalin.”

Kili and Fili exchange their special fist bump-finger twirl at the news and the praise. “Thank you, uncle!”

“Oh, we almost forgot,” Fili suddenly remembers. “We ought to tell you that master Dwalin was here yesterday and wanted with speak to you.” He takes a few large gulps of his strangely coloured protein shake and indicates to Kili to not ignore his own.

Thorin raises an eyebrow. He'd received no messages from Dwalin which normally meant the matter to be discussed was too delicate to communicate in that way. He wonders if this is to do with the unscheduled event they'd briefly discussed. “I'll grab him before your training then. Make sure you do your warm up whilst I meet with him.”

Kili nods eagerly. He finds he can’t look away from Thorin. Yesterday’s encounter is stuck in his brain, his bones, his limbs, his cock. He already wants it again and he feels like he cannot think. But he knows his uncle well enough that something like that may only happen every so often if at all. No matter how badly he wants it to.

He takes his shake dutifully, gulping it down, remembering about how muscles get built and that he wants to become as strong as the man of his dreams.  

+++

“D, have a seat,” Thorin points to the chair in his office. There is not a paperclip out of place now and nothing hints at last night's events that took place here. “The boys tell me that you came looking for me yesterday.”

“I did.” Dwalin briefly wonders for the umpteenth time if he really should get involved in Thorin’s activities. But somehow, he already is. “The business with Dain, did it work out?” he asks casually, trying not to sound too worried.

Thorin raises an eyebrow. Dwalin never takes an interest in the ongoing feud with Dain. “I'm taking care of it,” he answers. “The fights next week don't involve him so you don't need to worry.”

“Alright,” Dwalin tries not to sigh. But what else had he been expecting? He curses himself inwardly for getting involved with Ori and kind of sitting between two chairs now. But he doesn't want to give up either, so he needs to learn how to play along. Risky though. But when has his life not been risky? “Is it er something I can help with?” The words are out of his mouth before he has had a chance to think it through.

“With Dain?” Thorin narrows his eyes at this unusual behaviour from his friend. “No thank you, I've got it in hand. However, I do have a job for you,” he immediately takes the opportunity as it is handed to him on a plate.

“A job?” Dwalin is the one to blink now. He orders his brain to shift a gear and to remember to be alert when having a conversation with Thorin. And definitely to not let himself be distracted by silly emotions. Far too dangerous!

“Sunday. Fili is doing a job for for me at the port. I want you to go with him.”

“Fili is doing… No, Thorin,” Dwalin shakes his head, “you know I don't get involved with that side of your empire.”

Thorin stares at Dwalin for far too long without saying anything until the bigger man can't help but shift in his seat.

“Are we having a misunderstanding?” Thorin eventually says.

“I don't think so,” Dwalin holds that cold stare. “I run your club, I train your fighters. That's the deal, Oakenshield. I'm not getting involved in anything else.”

Thorin slowly gets to his feet and walks to the window, folding his hands behind his back. “You don't need to get involved in anything. I just want you to keep an eye on Fili.”

“To do what?” Dwalin crosses his arms stubbornly. “What if things go wrong? I'm sure you don't mean for me to stand by and do nothing.”

Thorin turns and smiles. He steps back to his desk and opens the drawer. A moment later a .45 ACP slides across the desk towards Dwalin. “You won't need it.”

Dwalin laughs. “Which is why you are giving me a gun. Get lost, Thorin. You know as well as I do that this isn't a case of accompanying your nephew to the movies.” The silent stares are making the hairs on his neck stand up though. And when Thorin slowly walks up to him he can't help but tense and ball his fists, steadying himself for a fight.

But Thorin sits himself down on the wrong side of his desk, his jacket falling open to reveal his own concealed weapon. “Why are you so interested in my business with Dain suddenly? When you don't _want to get involved_?”

_Fuckit!_ Dwalin knows instantly that he's got himself trapped.

“You offer to help sort out my beef with Dain but you won't babysit mio nipote?” Thorin smiles a sickly sweet smile at Dwalin, but he reaches for his cigarettes almost as a visual warning that things are about to get very uncomfortable. “That's curious,” Thorin says as he sticks a smoke between his lips and holds out his pack to his friend. He shrugs when Dwalin doesn't accept and lights his own. “D, you're my compagno, no? You can talk to me. What's on your mind, buddy?” He blows his smoke slowly into the air.

But Dwalin isn't fooled by this sudden offer of compassion from his friend. Noone says no to Thorin Oakenshield, not even he, and he knows that the agony-aunt offer is in fact an order to speak up and explain himself.

He angrily grabs the handgun from the table. “Fuck sake, I'll go with Fili,” he growls. “Ammo?” he holds up his hand to his boss.

Thorin smiles the most self satisfied smirk at him and Dwalin has to fight the urge to wipe it off his face with his fists. He catches the cartridge that Thorin throws at him and sticks it in his coat pocket. He is pissed with himself for having gotten himself in this situation. Not only has he not made anything better with regards to Ori and has somehow agreed to go with Fili Oakenshield on _some job_ , but worst of all he's raised Thorin's suspicion and he knows that his friend won't let the matter lie now. _Fuck fuck!_

“No drugs. It's a low risk operation. You don't need to know more than that, just look after my boy,” Thorin stubs out his cigarette as he's lost the taste for it now that he's got what he wants. “Be here by 6:30am.”

_Whatever._ “Is there something else, Thorin?” Dwalin asks outloud though, all business like himself now. “Otherwise I'd like to go and check on the boys’ training.”

“Actually yes.” Dwalin has a hard time not to groan at that. “We've got an outstanding agreement.”

“Outstanding agreement?” Dwalin echoes, wracking his brain over what possible debt he has outstanding with the man. He cannot think of any. He's always been exceptionally vigilant not to owe Thorin anything.

“Your… dry spell,” Thorin grins.

“Oh that…That's alright, I don't need any,” Dwalin uncharacteristically stammers, wanting to get out of there.

It doesn't have the desired effect as Thorin moves right into his personal space. “Hey D what the fuck? Are you standing me up now?” Thorin moves quickly as he grabs his friends by the gonads. “What do you mean, you don't need any? Every real man needs a good fuck. Unless… are you getting it elsewhere already? What, my dearest friend, have you not told me?”

“You’re right. I'm seeing someone.” There, it was out. Dwalin looks right at his friend as he says it.

For a second Thorin is surprised. But he plasters his charming smile back onto his face as he grabs Dwalin's face and gives him thick kisses on either cheek. “Amico!” He rolls himself off his desk with the grace of an acrobat  and grabs a bottle and two glasses out of the liquor cabinet. “We must celebrate!” he declares, seemingly ignorant of the fact that breakfast was only twenty minutes ago. He pours a generous glass and holds it out to Dwalin.

The trainer takes it as by now he could do with a stiff drink and he clicks their glasses together, hoping against hope that the Mafioso won't enquire him further. _It was a lie just to get him off my back,_ he tells himself. _Ori is just my friend. Then why am I so nervous?_ He tries to put on a smile of his own.

“Who is the lucky donna?” Thorin takes a seat back behind his desk, sipping the sweet drink.

“Jezebel,” Dwalin is suddenly determined to invent his own story and he truly grins at his dangerous friend now. “Got to know her in a b...Bakery,” he stops himself as book store almost slips out. He is too suspicious of his smart boss.

“Hm,” Thorin studies Dwalin for a moment. He'd love to find out more, but he's holding his nephews from their training and he has business to attend to. “Well, I do hope you will introduce her one day,” he says, knowing that Dwalin would do no such thing until things got really serious indeed. “Now if you’d excuse me,” he motions that Dwalin’s time is up.

“Oh and,” he smiles as Dwalin gets up, “Kili might want to make some changes to his workout schedule. To build up his upper arm strength,” he says with a glint in his eyes although nothing in the rest of his face betrays his arousal that simmers under the surface as he remembers what took place in this very room mere hours ago.

_Upper arm strength? Where did that come from? Doesn’t really fit to this type of fighting style but if the Prince wishes for it…_ “Aye, I’ll change his schedule,” he nods curtly and gets up, glad he can leave the lion’s den. He feels not at ease equipped with the weapon and the ammunition, knowing he got himself involved deeper in Thorin’s dirty business than he ever wanted to.

Thorin waits for the door to fall shut behind his friend before he enters the pager number. He slowly sips the rest of his drink whilst checking through his emails until there is another knock on his door.

“Boss,” Bilbo greets the handsome gangster as he's summoned in. “You wanted me?”  

Thorin slides an envelope across the desk. “There's a name. Find him. I just need you to give him a message. Nothing more.”

Bilbo takes the envelope and nods. “No problem, boss.” He almost asks if this is to do with the piece of work he'd done for Thorin the other day, but remembers just in time to hold his tongue. It's not his place to ask why, just who.

“There is something else,” Thorin says just as Bilbo is about to leave again. “My nephew, Kili, I want you to shadow him. Report to me when he leaves the compound, whom he talks with.”

“Your nephew?” Bilbo cannot help but sound surprised. Like most people he knows how smitten Thorin is with his nephews. The boys are more precious than anything else in this property filled with immeasurable wealth. And Bilbo knows that anyone who but points a finger at The Twins outside the ring is unlikely to keep their hands.

Thorin tilts his head in that fashion that makes a grown man whimper and the short buttonman quickly swallows his question. “I'll take care of it,” he promises his boss and he hastily leaves the office, stuffing the envelope deep in his pocket.

+++

Dwalin sits himself down heavily on the hard bench. He has Kili doing press ups and Fili is on the rowing machine as part of his new workout schedule. But Dwalin is struggling to focus on their training today. The exchange with Thorin plays around in his head and admittedly he's worried about Sunday and what he's getting himself into. And then of course there's Ori. Again they had exchanged silly little texts that morning. And already he reaches for his mobile now, hoping to find another message from his _friend._  

_~ Fancy another lunch together after your exhausting morning? I’d like to ask you some questions for research Jezebel may need for her new novel. xx._

Dwalin feels a little jolt of excitement as he reads the message. Ori wants to ask him about Jezebel’s new novel? Of course he'd given opinion about the artwork, but well that wasn't actually Ori's. He already wonders what questions the author has. Would he get to read any of the manuscript before anyone else?? _You're getting carried away!_ he scolds himself.

~ _Sure! I’d_

He accidentally hits send as Kili makes him jump when he tells him he's finished his exercise. _Shit!_ “Er, do another 30,” he orders the boy. When Kili frowns at him he reminds him that “you want to bulk out your arms right? Or you can get on the rowing machine with your brother…” Normally he would cringe at the innuendos that would follow such a careless statement on his part but this morning Kili seems as distracted as he is and to his surprise the boy goes back to the mat to do his press-ups without further question.

_~ Sorry,_ he quickly types, ~ _am training The Twins and pressed sent by mistake. Sure, I'd ~~love~~ like that very much, _ he decides in the end.

Ori’s grin widens from ear to ear as he’s eagerly reading the message. “YES!” he boxes the air as he sits alone in his room. Suddenly he gets a new idea after digesting ‘ _am training The Twins’_ and starts to type furiously:

  * _I watched him train his students today. He’s a sports teacher during the day. My God. My mouth was watering as my eyes fell onto his fine arse in those jogging bottoms. (Not that I haven’t admired it in his jeans before… and his leather trousers. Did I mention his black leather trousers already?)._



Ori takes his phone again and sends ~ _I would like you to describe some of the excercises to me :D xx_

Dwalin looks at the text in confusion. _Describe the exercises?_ It's an odd request but he hasn't got anything better to do anyway and at least it's a conversation that comes easy and takes his mind off his concerns.

He's just given Fili some instructions on how to keep his block up as he's got the boys doing some light sparring now. And so he types,

~ _Got them practising defensive boxing moves on the mats. K is trying to break through and F is trying to block. They'll swap in a moment._

Ori pictures this, remembering the fight he’s been to the other day. _Damn, I should have payed more attention._ His glance gets dreamy again as his typing continues.

  * _At first they had some kind of boxing lessons. He was wearing a tank top only and I had trouble to keep still on my seat, pretending to do some work on my laptop. (Really glad I had the device with me or it would have been r e a l l y embarrassing!)_


  * _To see all these muscles in action...biceps, chest, torso, shoulders, abs… oh my! Especially when he showed his pupils how to make proper push ups. One handed. Sigh. That man is a whole bundle of energy!_


  * _But he also had the attention of the young brats. There wasn’t one who stepped out of line. All of them were following his every word, looking up at him with respect. He seems to send his unbound energy out towards them._


  * _And me._



Ori chews thoughtfully on his pen. Even though he’s typing on his keyboard, he needs a pen to twirl for thinking.

He can’t get his thoughts away from Dwalin. _Do I have a chance? Will he ever see something else in me than a friend?_ it flits through his rosy brain.

He stares at the phone, wondering if there will be another message. He doesn’t dare probe again, suddenly thinking he might overdo it. But he can’t help and quickly types

~ _Thanks a lot. That helped my muse :) xxx_  

_My muse?_ Dwalin scratches his bald head. _He's writing about fighting?_ He's even more curious now what Ori wants to ask him over lunch about his new novel.

~ _Welcome. How about 1:30 at Starbucks on the corner of 6_ _th_ _Ave?_

“Is everything alright D?”

Dwalin jolts as he finds the twins both staring at him with their arms crossed.

“You seem a little distracted this morning,” Fili frowns at his coach with concern.

“Er, it's nothing,” Dwalin flusters.

~ _Gotta go. Cy later._ He manages to quickly send before he orders himself to put his phone away and focus on his job. He claps his hands and decides to spar with the lads himself. At least if he keeps his hands busy he won't be tempted to check his phone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zio - uncle  
> mio nipote - my nephew  
> compagno - mate, buddy, chum  
> Amico - friend  
> donna - woman


	15. Chapter 15

**Thursday** **afternoon**

Dwalin can't help the grin that splits his face as soon as he sees Ori stood in front of the coffee chain. He feels a little more chilled now. After having trained with The Twins and using Thorin's private gym for another hour for himself, he had taken a cool shower and tried to make himself to look presentable.

“Hey,” Ori holds out his hand, even though he’d rather put his lips against that bushy beard. “Glad you could make it!” Just like in his story he feels lots of butterflies in his stomach. His eyes rake over Dwalin’s impressive figure and he grabs the plastic bag he's holding with both arms so as not to sling them around his sturdy neck.

“Glad I had an excuse to get out for an hour,” Dwalin lets slip. He pushes the door open and finds himself holding it open for the shorter guy.

Ori smiles up at him and walks over to a table by the window. “What would you like?” he asks as he still clutches the bag to his chest.

“Er, just a black coffee,” Dwalin takes a seat at the table. “Macchiato or whatever they call it here. Just a coffee,” he laughs. “Need a hand?”

“It's...Well,” Ori holds out the bundle to Dwalin. “I wanted to give it to you anyway, as my biggest fan.”

Dwalin looks at the plastic bag. “What is it?” he asks without taking it just yet.

Ori thinks for a moment. Not that he's not done that for about an hour or so. “Jezebel tried out a new style and she'd like for you to be her first reader.”

Dwalin takes the bag but stares at it as if it might explode in his hands at any time. He must admit that he finds it exciting when Ori talks about Jezebel as if she were a real woman. That even though the bubble has burst, he somehow keeps the fantasy alive for him. And Dwalin finds that almost easier to swallow than if it really had been that wannabe pornstar from the exhibition. But having the document in his hands… that feels somewhere between sacrilege and getting caught with porn by the headmaster.“You eh you want me to read this… here?” He feels his face flush.

“Not here,” Ori shakes his head, grinning wickedly, “Wherever you normally read…” he bends forward a little, “wherever you normally adore her work.” He winks mischievously.

Dwalin feels the tips of his ears glow redder than Ori's hair and he quickly stuffs the plastic bag beside his seat. “Coffee. Black. Coffee,” he stammers, wondering how he manages to keep his cool when Don Thorin Oakenshield threatens to castrate him better than when this little bookworm flirts with him.

“Right. Coffee,” Ori grins and quickly joins the short queue.

“I have a request though,” he says when he's back with their order, shoving the cup towards his large friend and taking a sip of his own. “I would like for you to send me feedback as often as you feel like it. I’ve never written this way, so I'd appreciate your honest comments.”

“Sure,” Dwalin sips the black coffee far too quickly, burning his tongue in the process. “I'll… text you.” He is torn between desperately wanting to read the manuscript now and wanting to change the subject. But he doesn't want to be rude, so he asks, “Can I ask what about? Your, I mean Jezebel's, new story?”

“I’d like for you to discover it yourself,” Ori answers with another teasing smirk. “How was your training?” he changes the subject himself now.

Dwalin is even more curious to find out what's hidden in the pages but he stops himself from asking more. “Training? Er fine.” He wants to tell Ori about his conversation with Thorin, but knows that's absolutely out of the question. _Is there anything we can talk about that won't get either of us in trouble?_ he begins to wonder. “How's things ehm at home?” he neutrally enquires.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Ori asks, circumventing the question, feeling the uneasiness Dwalin radiates. He himself thinks the walls have ears here and would like to be somewhere else.

“Yeah sure,” Dwalin is already on his feet, grabbing the plastic bag like some precious cargo. On one hand having a friend in the opposing camp is an awfully bad idea, but on the other at least Ori understands like no other what world he lives in.

“How long is your break?” the author tries to decide where to go. It's very nice weather and he suddenly thinks they are best off outside with no prying ears. And he has the overwhelming urge to hold Dwalin's hand as they walk but of course doesn't do it.

“Er, I have no other commitments until this evening,” Dwalin shrugs. It's not like his job involves office hours. He's mostly at Thorin's beck and call but he's not expecting his boss to call him until after dinner time. Most of his work is done early mornings or late evenings. “You?” He stuffs one hand in his jeans and the other clutches the bag still.

“Me neither. In fact, I've earned myself a little time off since I got pretty far with this already,” Ori points to the bag, loving the fact that Dwalin holds it like a precious possession.”

Dwalin nods as they cross the road and stroll towards the park.

“Are you coming to the fight next Friday?” he asks after a few moments. “I know it's not against Dain, but…” he trails off as he realises what he was about to say and how stupid that idea is.

Ori looks up at him sideways, sipping the last remnants of his latte. _Is he inviting me?_ “I…” _am not interested in these fights…_ was the first that came to mind naturally. But things have changed now that he can’t keep his eyes away from his crush. “I might,” he says, “but do you think it’s okay for me to be there when it’s not about Dain’s fighters?”

“Probably not,” Dwalin sighs, regretting having asked the question. “But if you stay in audience...  Nevermind, it's too risky. Forget I said it.”

“But I’d love to,” Ori blurts out, instinctively grabbing for Dwalin’s arm. “You know about my work, now I’d like to know a bit more about yours.”

Dwalin nods slowly. The touch had taken him by surprise but he didn't flinch or pull back like he normally would have. “Maybe… I will get a feel for the ticket sales. If it's a big enough crowd you should be okay.” _If I'm still alive by then,_ he frets again about this stupid deal on Sunday. “There’s a fight on Tuesday as well but the boss is keeping it secret for now,” he forces himself not to think about anything else. “I'll let you know when I know more.

“Would you like to grab a pint and a sandwich at the river cafe? We could sit at the picnic benches.”

Ori nods eagerly, aware of his stomach making strange noises by now and looking forward to spending more time with Dwalin.

When they've ordered their steak and cheese sandwiches and are sipping their drinks - Dwalin a pint of ale and Ori an extra large coke - Dwalin decides to try and make an effort at conversation. “So you write columns for your job and you write novels for your other job. Do you do anything else than write?” he asks rather bluntly.  

“Not much,” Ori says, chewing. “It's the only thing I believe I'm kinda good at.” He tries to catch Dwalin's glance. “Do you do anything else than train fighters and read?” he tries to make the question light and winks playfully.

“Er, I have two cats,” Dwalin says, sipping his beer. “You?”

“Ohhhhhh, how cute, how cute!!!” Ori gets really excited about that new information and again it slips, “May I see them?” He doesn't answer the question in all his excitement.

“Er yes.” _I guess. Shit, did I just say yes to Ori coming to my place?_ Dwalin panics a little. Noone ever came to his house, not even Thorin. It was his little haven away from everything and everyone. “What about you, do you have any pets?” he asks again to take the focus off himself.

“A birdy,” Ori says, “won't go so well with your cats,” he laughs and can't believe that Dwalin agreed to showing him his cats. But maybe he means via photos?

Dwalin manages to crack what is almost a relaxed smile at that. “What like a parrot?”

“Exactly, someone I can talk to all day,” Ori jokes.  

Dwalin bursts out in a bouldering laugh at that. He can just picture that, Ori having a lovely one sided conversation with a bird who occasionally repeats some lewd word. At least it's more interactive than his own conversations with his feline housemates. “You do put a smile on my face,” he throws out, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “I guess you get more intelligent conversation out of a parrot than your stepbrother.” He stops abruptly, wondering if he'd gone too far with that last remark.

“That’s a dead on observation,” the redhead confirms, putting  his hand on Dwalin’s forearm lightly. He instantly noticed how the other man had bitten his lip and frowned after the comment about Dain slipped.

Dwalin relaxes and nods. He takes the last sip of his pint. “I should get going. Got some errands to run.” He grins and pats the plastic bag, “And some stuff to read.”

Ori is a bit sad that their time together is already over. He always feels very comfortable in his new big friend’s company. On the other hand he’s very excited that Dwalin seems to be eager to read his manuscript and he is happy and very nervous all at once. He’s never had a reader he knew face to face. Certainly not one this handsome!

 _What if I fucked this up? What if he expects some of my normal stuff? Too late now though._ He smiles at Dwalin as he gets up, his cheeks glowing. He holds out his hand for goodbye. “Remember, I’d really like to hear your honest input.”

“Aye, I will,” Dwalin shakes Ori's hand but it feels too formal and so he pulls the smaller guy into a bear hug. “Are we er still on for tomorrow night?” he asks a little awkwardly as soon as he releases the other guy.

Ori’s breath leaves him completely as he’s crushed against that strong chest and just as quickly released again. His heart is hammering in his throat at the gesture. _He really likes me!!_ He almost forgets to answer the question. “Of course, of course,” he grins up into that expressive face.

“How ehm you come and pick me up?” _Shit, did I just say that?!_ Dwalin thinks. “I mean to, to see the cats?”

Ori has a hard time to not tiptoe and kiss that teddy bear on the cheek. “Text me your address then?”

Dwalin grunts some form of acknowledgement. “See ya then.” He claps Ori's shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Take care of yerself, amigo.”

“And you,” Ori watches his muse walk away, admiring that perfect view of broad shoulders and nice arse. The first paragraphs of a new chapter already forming in his head.

+++

_~ Hello Boss. Nothing to report. K stayed at estate with F. Other message delivered. B_

Thorin smiles at the message from Bilbo, satisfied that his orders had been carried out and even more satisfied that his beloved nephew really appears to have gotten the message about family love. He pours himself a double whiskey and relaxes in his favourite armchair. He's hopeful that the business with Dain is sorted for now. And he looks forward to Fili getting his first opportunity to prove himself as his heir. He flexes his fingers, the heavy golden rings glistening in the fading light. He mostly looks forward to Tuesday’s fight. It's been a long while since he stood in the ring himself. And he looks forward to the challenge and to proving that, as he told Thranduil, he's not past his best yet.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thursday Evening**

Dwalin sits down heavily on his sofa. He is knackered and he knows it's less to do with any physical exhaustion and all the more with this rollercoaster of emotions he appears to have gotten himself into.

He smiles as his two companions quickly nestle themselves on his lap.

“Well, here goes,” he says as much to the cats as himself. He doesn't know why he feels nervous. Before he had met the face behind his favourite author he had felt thrilled whenever a new book of her was on the shelves. But that was different. That was when those books were already edited and published and … when he didn't personally know the person behind this wonderful fantasy world.

Now he isn't just excited to be impressed by his heroine again. But he's nervous to critique his hero.

He stares at the first page as if he's mentally preparing himself for a fight.

  * **_Defying the Odds_**
  * _by Jezebel Dainty *_



_Interesting title. Could go lots of ways. Perhaps something with gambling or casinos,_ Dwalin thinks, reaching for his coffee before he turns the page.

  * _I hadn't wanted to go and watch the boxing match. It was not my thing, never had been. I did not care for watching men beat each other to a pile of bruises even if there was something thrilling about watching those gladiators flex their muscles at each other. But after many years of getting beat around the head most of them now looked like a bad contestant for the next Rocky movie, with their broken noses and cauliflower ears. And there seemed to be little under the surface too. No substance, no real depth. Not the kind of man that I wanted to spend time with. Not the kind of man I ever thought I would find interesting._


  * _Of course that was before I laid eyes on_ him. _He was drop dead gorgeous. Fighting was in his blood, that much I could see straight away.  But he was not the one in the ring. No, this hunk of a man, all muscle and tattoos, was the most talented trainer in this bloody sport. A doctoris of gladiators._



Dwalin swallows audibly as he's sucked straight away into Jezebel's beloved style. Yet, to see the parallels to himself lets his eyes grow wide. He’s holding the pages even more tightly as he reads on, his coffee forgotten.

  * _I admired him from afar. Occasionally he glanced my way, but I did not think that he noticed me, but rather his clear blue eyes simply scanned the crowd, measuring the mood of the punters, making sure that his fighters were giving them a good show._


  * _He was all I had eyes for though. Whilst the crowds cheered on their hero_ _es in the ring, my hero was stood right there. Oh how I longed to feel those biceps bulging underneath that thin T-shirt. To rest my head against that broad chest and feel those strong arms envelope me._



Dwalin gasps. He remembers the night clearly. The night Bark fought against the Defiler. Ori kept staring at him. Is this where his inspiration had come from? He swallows yet again, his throat gone completely dry. He reaches for the mug and downs the cold coffee in one go. _How am I supposed to feel about this? Am I his muse?_ He leans back against the sofa, closing his eyes, pinching his nose. It’s Jezebel’s style but all of it screams ORI at him. He grabs for his phone and opens whatsapp but then stares at the screen blankly.

  * _He said he wants my input. He said he wants my honest opinion. I_ _’d better read some more before I_ _reach the wrong conclusions. But damn, it’s hot. I love how that girl admires the trainer and not the fighters._



A grin spreads over his face as he strokes his cats’ fur before getting up and making himself a fresh cup. As he returns to read more he has to fight for his favourite space on the sofa with his girls. Chuckling good naturedly he sits down in the other corner and continues reading, his heart beating a bit faster, his groin tingling slightly.

  * _I tried to build up the courage to go over to him. As a journalist I was normally quick and confident with my words. **Author** **Note - journalist. Need to expand on that in the intro.** But somehow I was tongue tied. I was worried that he would take one look at me and shake his head, laugh at me even. What was someone like me, a skinny redhead, doing in this world of tough guys anyway?_ 



A skinny redhead. Dwalin chuckles, turning on his small lamp to put the room into an warm, glowy light. Normally Jezebel’s heroines aren’t skinny, but of course this would make sense if the hero is a muscle man like him. Opposites attract. He takes the phone now and texts

_~ dear jezebel, I am very intrigued by your story so far. I have lots of fun reading :D_

Ori jolts as his phone buzzes on his pillow. He had been biting his cuticles to bleeding all evening, desperately trying to stop himself from asking Dwalin if he'd read anything yet, what he thought of it, did he like it, should he change anything. “Yes!” he power-grabs the air as he reads the message.

~ _Yay! Glad you like. Where did you get to?_ He can't help but respond immediately.

Dwalin smiles as the response instantly comes up.

~ _where you reveal that the heroine is a skinny redhead. ;)_

Ori blinks. Heroine. _Shit_ _, so he hasn't… He still thinks…_ He hovers over his keyboard, unsure whether to give the game away. But then Dwalin might stop reading any further. He said he is having lots of fun. Maybe just play along for a little longer. Get him really into the story.

~ _Oh you've only just started ;) Well carry on my handsome hunk,_ he dares but only by ending with _xxx Your Jezebel xxx_

Dwalin feels a deep blush creep up his neck and into his face at the endearment of his favourite author. _This is wicked and weird all at once._ He thinks, frowning. How can he get aroused by a few words from a lady, knowing it actually isn’t a lady? He has the feeling his brain is knotting up in irresolvable knots if he keeps thinking about this for too long. He wants to reply but isn’t really sure what to type yet so his eyes dart back to the page.

  * _I reminded myself why I was there. I was a sports editor **Author Note - could work? Need to ask D to check the lingo**_



Dwalin’s face can’t spread wider into a grin right now as he reads this. Being mentioned by his Jezebel to be asked for advice.

  * _and with my colleague suddenly taken ill my boss had asked me to cover this event. At that moment I was so mesmerised by this man that I could not even remember the names of the boxers. Already I could hear my boss scream at me what a terrible job I had done._



Dwalin laughs out loud at that.

  * _But surely she would forgive me if she knew that I had been distracted by the most beautiful **Author note - beautiful? Does that sound right to you?** / handsome face I had ever seen.*_



_Is she talking to me directly now?_ Dwalin wonders. Beautiful. The word turns circles in his head. Does she – I mean he! - think I'm beautiful? _I am not beautiful_.

 _~ I don't think beautiful is the right word._ Dwalin texts instantly, torn between thinking about the author as Jezebel or Ori.

 _I think you're beautiful,_ Ori thinks instantly. But perhaps that does sound a little gay.

_~ Okay thanks :) Handsome it is! What do you think of the main character being a sports journalist? X_

He intentionally chooses neutral words to refer to his protagonist.

~ _It's interesting. I like it! :D_

“Double yes!” Ori cheers out loud as he reads the message. _Please please please don't be freaked out though._

  * _I gathered my courage as I strode over. Of course this was not the moment to interrupt, right as the fight was reaching its peak by the sounds coming from the excited crowd. But I wanted to make sure that I was the first in the line to ask the man about the victory of his fighter - of course I had no doubt in my mind that a trainer of his magnitude only had champions in the ring. Besides, standing this close allowed me to study the man closer. His strong jaw that sported a fierce beard. The tattoos that decorated most of his exposed skin. And as my eyes glode down that fabulous broad back they soon rested on his delicious looking arse clad in very well fitting jeans._



Dwalin feels his cheeks redden at all the praise. _Jezebel really likes a well build man._ He’s really getting into the story now as he reads on. _It’s nice that she did chose the boxing theme._ He half counts the pages he hasn’t read yet, wanting to submerge himself into that tale.  

  * _As soon as the opposing challenger falls to his knees and the referee calls victory for my trainer’s champion I see the excitement and elation light up his stern face. And for a moment I cannot help but wonder if this is the face he makes when he comes for me, sweaty and hot and raw._



Dwalin groans involuntarily, grabbing for his crotch at those words. _Oh sweet Jesus, Jezebel! I love your inappropriate thoughts._

Ori bites his fingers almost to bleeding. Of course he has a copy of the manuscript but he doesn't need to read it to know exactly what comes next since he had read and reread the piece a thousand times before finding the courage to show it to Dwalin. _Has he read the bit about his delicious arse yet? Or about ‘coming for me’,  oh fuck did I really give him that to read?!_ he frets now, nervousness combined with arousal.

He can't keep quiet any longer, the suspense killing him.

~ _How's it going, trainer with the gorgeous arse? Are you enjoying it, sexy? Your J xxx_ he sends before he loses his courage.

Dwalin stares at the screen and texts back instantly

~ _very much so, my sweet Jezebel! I love your style! It makes me horny_

Ori literally gasps and almost falls off his bed in his surprised excitement. _Holy fuck, did he really just admit that my story had made him horny?!_ He reads the text again as he stuffs his free hand down his pyjama bottoms. _Horny too,_ he grins to himself, but he knows he has to play along for now. This is too good, too sweet to ruin with a misplaced word.

 _~ That's good, glad to hear it, stud,_ he awkwardly swipes with one hand. _Wanna just put the story aside a moment and have some fun with just the two of us? I'm picturing you wearing nice tight jeans, just like I described. They must be real tight now…_ Ori blushes heavily as he sends that message.

~ _They are! I want your slender fingers open up my fly. I really like you calling me stud,  my darling xxx_

Dwalin doesn’t really think now. He just goes with the flow, feeling like he’s part of the story all of a sudden, massaging his covered crotch firmly.

Ori makes little mewling sounds. He doesn't care right now that he has to play Jezebel. He's more than happy to be Dwalin's fantasy come true and giving him the manuscript has at least so far had more than the desired effect.

~ _Oh darling, I like that a lot. Let me help you then, my sexy man. Let me sink between your legs as I slowly, so slowly pull down your zipper. Oh my, look what we have here. You really are a very horny boy for me, aren't you…_

~ _Fuck I am! How long have I waited for your hands to be on me like that! Oh my sweet Jez, hmm…_

~ _The wait is over, sexy D,_ Ori types back instantly, caught up in the play too. _~ I want you to touch yourself for me. I want you to touch yourself real nice. Can you make your fist nice and wet for me. And just imagine that it's my red hot lips slowly taking that gorgeous cock of yours in my mouth._

“Fuck!” Dwalin spits in his hand after taking out his hard cock and fists it firmly. Texting awkwardly.

~ _Fuck Jezzy, I luv your pearly lips around me, sucking hard….Damn, your tongue on my cock head nngggg_

Dwalin had never done something like this before but it’s arousing him like nothing else. Having his favourite author texting him like that… He strokes himself nice and slow, imagining that woman’s mouth deep throating him. He leans his head back as he visualises her.

~  _I love it so when you call me Jezzy, my super hot man! An_ _d I love your nice big cock. It's even bigger than I had imagined. Taking you real deep. Mmmm, you like that, do you? When I fuck you with my mouth?_

Dwalin’s breath catches in his throat and he can barely read the message. But he so desperately wants to text back in his haze.

~ _my cock loves it in your hot, wet mouth, my Jezzy, swirl your tongue ...lick my slit, babe_

Dwalin has never texted that quickly. He’s aroused like hell and he wants to draw this out. It feels like a real BJ.

Ori has shoved his pyjama bottoms down now and is fisting himself the same way he's instructed Dwalin to do. The tip of his hard on is glistening with excitement and he moans softly as he reads the text, before replying

~ _Yes, talk dirty to me, stud, I love that! Licking your precum, swirling my tongue in your slit like you ask me too. I love it, baby. Put your hands in my soft red hair. Push me down your length, you hunk. I want to have you so deep in my throat!_

The loud moan that escapes Dwalin makes his cats jump from the sofa and leave him alone in his bliss. “Jezzy, Jezzyyy,” he starts to murmur, clutching the phone in his one hand and his cock in the other. He still wants to hold on but he also feels ready to tumble over the edge.

~ _suck my dick, my sexy vixen, lick it with your wicked tongue, love to watch you do this, such a hot mouth!!!!!_

 _Fuck, that's so hot!_ Ori might have written a dozen sexy novels, but to text this with a recipient … Someone who really is getting off on everything he says to him…

Ori speeds up his hand, getting the sense that his text partner is getting close. He closes his eyes briefly as he wanks himself firmly, before grabbing his phone again

~ _come for me, sexy D. I want to swallow your cum_

He too has lost his eloquence now as he quickly moved his hand along his shaft again, not wanting to be too far behind his text-lover.

_~ fuuuuckkkkkyesss fuckkk shooting my seed down your throat. Damn you're so gorgo.s….._

 “JEZ!” Dwalin shouts out loud as he comes allover his phone. A nice thick stream erupting out of the swollen tip as he pants and gasps, slumped between the cushions.

At the sight of the last message Ori gives up trying to type. He drops his phone beside him on the blanket and moves his now free hand under his buttocks to rub across his fluttering pucker. The new sensation combined with his now frantic jerking sends an explosion from his prick to his brain. His eyes cloud over as his orgasm pulses through him in gulfs.  “Ffffuck,” he moans breathlessly as his chest and cheeks flush a deep red to match his hair.


End file.
